


New Vulcan

by Dianthus_Olesendra



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:30:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dianthus_Olesendra/pseuds/Dianthus_Olesendra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div>
  <p>The Enterprise is sent on a humanitarian mission to New Vulcan. Besides this task, Spock is there to fulfill one more duty to his people, while dealing with wistful memories of his lost homeworld and facing the old bigotry in the new colony. Jim does his best to support him, but it seems like Khan’s blood didn’t work miracles after all… Doctor McCoy has to watch out for the captain, endure the heat and tolerate arrogant Vulcans.</p>
  <p>This is a translation of a Russian story "Новый Вулкан".  Translated by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/mightymads"><b>mightymads<b></b></b></a>. Many thanks to ForgottenOne for proofreading the first two chapters.</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A translation of [Новый Вулкан](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1059621) by Dianthus_Olesendra.

The shuttle smoothly started off and, slightly vibrating, entered the atmosphere of the planet the Enterprise was orbiting. 

At last Jim allowed himself to relax for a moment and slouched in his not quite comfortable chair. He felt exhausted after the commotion of the previous days. Behind him, Bones was grumbling monotonously about damned flying tin cans, which belonged in a junk yard, tight safety belts and, oddly enough, their insufficient quantity. Jim couldn’t help smirking: Bones was his usual self. But what really made him worry was Spock’s quietness. 

Well, his First Officer had always been reserved and during the time they had been working together Jim became used to it. Besides, after the encounter with Khan and all subsequent events, Spock kept his emotions under a strict control. At present, the Vulcan’s demeanor was in a stark contrast to the scale of feelings Spock showed when Jim was dying behind the glass. Now Spock was sitting in his chair motionless, watching intently the approaching of the reddish brown planet with sparse torn clouds over its surface. It was New Vulcan. 

Even without Vulcan logic Jim could easily guess what his First was thinking about. Over a year passed since the terrible tragedy, which caused the demise of an entire planet and took lives of billions of Vulcans, its peaceful inhabitants, including women, children, old people and Spock’s mother. Only shards were left from the ancient civilization, only ten thousand survivors, who were now trying to re-establish their life from scratch. 

Even though Jim had never been on Vulcan, he did see it from a distance once. He had to admit that at first sight New Vulcan was quite similar to the old one, but surely Spock already noticed thousands of differences. 

Acting on impulse, Jim tried to drag Spock out of his reverie. 

“Spock, I think I accidentally deleted a transportation plan for construction materials from my PADD. No idea how it happened. Could you send it me again?”

Spock blinked and furrowed his brow for a good second, which made it obvious how far he had been in his thoughts.

“Yes, Captain,” he said flatly.

Jim cast a quick searching glance at the Vulcan. Actually he hoped for a standard lecture about the captain’s absent minded behavior and such mistakes being unacceptable, but none followed. Spock just did what he asked, and Jim had nothing to do but fumble with the PADD in his hands, staring at a document he could recite even in a state of delirium. 

“It looks like all official activities will start only in three hours, so Bones and I will have enough time to find us a suitable dwelling,” Jim’s voice cut through the silence again, its energetic tone contrasting with the general oppressive atmosphere in the shuttle, but still unable to dispel it. 

“I believe everything has been already taken care of. We will be provided with rooms at a hotel.”

“We?” asked Jim, meeting Spock’s thoughtful gaze. “I thought you would stay at Ambassador Sarek’s place. Why would you lose an opportunity to…” he was about to say “visit your home”, but caught himself in time. For Spock New Vulcan was anything but. “…spend time with your dad?”

“I am here not as a civilian. Therefore it is logical to follow standard procedures.”

It meant that Spock would stay at his captain’s side. Jim didn’t try to feign surprise or indignation and he wasn’t going to lie to himself either, because he was quite content with such circumstances. But Bones leaned forward and tapped Spock’s shoulder unceremoniously. 

“We have a ‘mission’ here, don’t you remember? But you are going down for another purpose.”

Spock stiffened, and Jim felt frustrated at Bones’ lack of tact yet again. 

However, frankly speaking, Bones was correct. On her way to Betazed for their main task, the Enterprise made a detour to deliver relief cargo to New Vulcan: construction materials, equipment, medications and tools. Many of these were necessary to help Vulcans to get back to a normal life, if a word ‘normal’ could be applied to their situation at all. But it was only a part of the truth. The Enterprise had a treasure which was perhaps more important to New Vulcan than that vast amount of cargo on board: a Vulcan that served on it. When the newly settled colony began to summon the survivors, the Starfleet management considered it a good opportunity to establish a contact with New Vulcan. That’s why Jim’s ship was filled with relief cargo and sent here, and Jim was going down to supervise the transportation. 

Spock’s duty was different.

“How much time will you need for all the tests?” 

Perhaps, Jim should have asked McCoy this question, since he was a doctor, but Jim wanted to hear Spock’s voice – his reserved, dull, emotionless voice, so that the Vulcan had to talk and did not think more than was necessary at the moment. Spock could insist three hundred times that he didn’t feel anything, but after their heartfelt farewell in the engine room Jim wouldn’t be deceived. Spock did feel and now, as they were approaching New Vulcan, these feelings became quite clear. 

“Not more than a couple of hours,” said a raspy voice from behind: Bones answered instead of Spock. Jim fidgeted in his chair, irritated. If he didn’t know McCoy better, he would think the guy was doing that deliberately. 

“Doctor is correct, Captain,” Spock spoke up at last. “By the time the main work begins, I plan to finish all the procedures at the medical center.” 

He sounded neutral, Jim would even say - impassive. A bad sign. But it could hardly be better in this situation: The High Council summoned all surviving Vulcans to New Vulcan, so that every member of the race could give a blood sample for experiments to repopulate the species. Leaving it to a natural way of things was out of the question, but even facing a real threat of extinction of Vulcans, despite his resourceful mind, Jim couldn’t imagine Spock as a father of dozens of children. Surely Spock understood it just as well. Perhaps it was the last straw among the differences that caused the end of his relationship with Lieutenant Uhura. 

“Okay, in this case we could go to the reproduction center together,” Jim had no idea why he said that, but his First was so quiet that he had to do something. Spock looked up in astonishment, his pupils slightly dilated and a brow arched. Seeing this, Jim had no more doubts and, trying to forestall any arguments from Spock, he added hurriedly, “I think Bones will be very interested.”

So the doctor’s presence had its advantages after all: a professional interest, you couldn’t argue with that. Jim pursed his lips and waited for Spock’s answer eagerly. 

“I do not think it is a good idea,” Spock began slowly. Apparently, he couldn’t find a logical reason for them to visit the reproduction center. “Most probably you and the doctor will not be admitted inside.”

“Then we’ll wait outside,” Jim replied undeterred and felt a finger poke him in the back. McCoy, with his belts still fastened, managed to lean forward to the captain. His expression clearly read, “What the hell was that?” Jim would tell him if the answer weren't so personal.

“But still, we shouldn’t split up yet. Sorry, Spock, but I don’t know much about the Vulcan culture and wouldn’t like to offend or insult somebody by accident.” 

Okay, at least now going to the reproduction center together didn’t look like one of Jim’s whims – it was a justified measure to avoid making any bad impressions on Vulcans. 

It seemed that for Spock this explanation was sufficient. Jim couldn’t say the same about Bones, but the doctor gave a wry smile and leaned back in his chair, looking through the shuttle window at the surroundings. 

There wasn’t much to look at, though. The sun was high up in the sky, shining over a dry reddish plane. Jim would never choose such a world to bring here the remnants of his civilization, he would go to a place abundant with water and green. But he was a human, whereas Vulcans chose a planet which was very similar to their lost world: a hot stony desert under a ruthless sun. Maybe there was some special logic in it, but for Jim it was unfathomable. 

He entered the last piece of data into the onboard computer and the shuttle smoothly began its landing. Jim distinctly saw a black rectangle of a launch pad and a lonely figure of a Vulcan, who was standing at a safe distance from it. 

“Not a big welcoming committee, eh?” Bones whispered to Jim when they got out onto a windy plateau. After artificial coolness of the shuttle, New Vulcan’s hot air felt like sandpaper in their lungs and fine dust was soon crunching between their teeth and making it difficult to breathe. Jim covered his mouth with his hand and shrugged in reply to Bones’ comment. 

It was a different planet with its own rules. At present they were neither allies, nor guests of honor here. Many things happened after the destruction of Spock’s homeworld: Starfleet seriously discredited its reputation and numerous discussions and disputes still continued. Among many issues, other civilizations were accusing Starfleet High Command of aiding Admiral Marcus in his crimes, of a tendency to review peaceful principles of the Federation even now, several months after his death. 

Jim didn’t think this mission would be an easy one from the very beginning. But for him there was yet another reason.

As usual, taking the lead of their small landing party, he headed towards the Vulcan, who was standing near a hastily built operations control station. After a few steps Jim was absolutely certain that he recognized the man, whose eyes were fixed on Spock, but at the same time Jim couldn’t say that he and Bones stayed unobserved. Sarek’s piercing gaze was as sharp as the scorching desert wind, which was blowing through the plateau. He didn’t change a bit during these months, if only more gray appeared around his temples, and his eyes became sterner. It seemed that the burning sun and the dry wind didn’t bother him at all, but were making him look even more intimidating. 

“Live long and prosper!” Sarek greeted them with the traditional phrase as the three approached him, and raised his right hand in a familiar gesture.

“Live long and prosper, Father,” replied Spock, mirroring his father’s ta’al. 

“Ambassador,” Jim tilted his head slightly in return – he wasn’t even going to attempt the Vulcan salute and didn’t comment Spock’s stepping forward. 

“Judging by the schedule you have sent, there is still time before the beginning of the unloading works. Therefore, I would like to suggest that you and the doctor settle in the hotel rooms, which we have reserved for you,” Sarek began without an unnecessary preamble. “As practice shows, Terrans often face difficulties in adjustment to the local climate.”

What? Has Sarek just told them to stay out of Vulcans’ way in this unobtrusive manner? Jim put on a polite smile, turned a deaf ear to McCoy’s “why, yes, of course” and, restraining himself from wiping sweat from his forehead, said aloud, “Ambassador, we are very grateful for your hospitality.”

Sarek nodded and turned to Spock, “You are already awaited at the reproduction center. You may go there immediately.”

Jim cast a side glance at Spock, waiting for his reaction. The wind disarranged his coal black strands, and with tousled hair Spock seemed very human and vulnerable. Sarek’s impersonal tone could be easily expected from a stranger, who had to deal with an inconvenient task, not from a father, who saw his son for the first time after the death of the person they both cherished so much. 

“That’s what we were going to do,” Jim answered instead, before his brain kicked in. 

A pause that followed made it quite obvious what Sarek was thinking about this “we”. But Jim knew he was right and indulged himself in one more little act of defiance: as he was standing very close to Spock, he had to make only one little sidestep, and their shoulders touched. 

The physical contract lasted less than a second, but Jim could feel his body burn at the touch. 

“Captain believes that the doctor will be interested in communication with his Vulcan colleagues,” Spock explained in a faltering voice and turned to McCoy.

“Sure thing,” Bones nodded, though it was impossible not to notice his sarcastic tone. “Somebody kept pestering me about it all the way here.”

Jim waited for Sarek’s reaction, but his face remained blank. 

“As you wish,” he said just as impassively. The Ambassador turned on his heel and headed away from the launch pad, making it clear that the conversation was finished. 

Before Jim followed, he looked into Spock’s eyes, but unfortunately this time he could not figure out what the Vulcan was thinking. 

* * *

Indeed, sometimes Jim Kirk behaved very recklessly. He relied more on intuition rather than on facts and often surprised Spock with seeming illogic of his deeds. Most of the times Spock could tell when the captain would give in to his emotionalism, but this time Jim’s impulsive outburst was entirely unexpected. Demonstrating his personal affection to the First Officer in front of Sarek was utterly unreasonable, obnoxious even, and logic could not explain the captain’s irrational behavior. But Spock’s intuition, which he had been trying to disregard many years, easily found not only the reason of everything that transpired, but also justification for it. As their hovercar was approaching the settlement, situated in the center of a wide saucer-shaped valley, the frequency of captain’s glances in his direction increased significantly. Taking it into account, Spock could surmise that Jim was worried about his emotional state and tried to support him, so that his stay on New Vulcan would be more acceptable. Human care was absolutely inappropriate by Vulcan standards, but he could not deny that it was too welcome to be ignored, because with every passing minute Spock felt more and more acutely that he did not belong here. 

Over a short period of time and with the help from the Federation, a temporary settlement turned into a well organized town with a developed infrastructure – almost a city – with its paved streets and tall similarly looking buildings lined up along the road they were taking. However, without classical Vulcan elements, the architecture seemed dull and simplified. Of course, Vulcans opted for practical ways, but they had always valued and respected beauty. For them it was not just a form of expressing emotions – it was beauty that made each race unique. And yet now the colony looked not much different from any other Federation settlement. Even the contrast of light-beige buildings with reddish hues of the landscape was unpleasant. 

Perhaps, the settlement looked like this because of haste in which it was built. Perhaps, it lacked distinct features because many races and nations were involved in its construction. But Spock realized at once that New Vulcan would never substitute the lost homeworld. 

“What’s that?”

Spock looked in the direction Kirk was pointing, but from his seat it was difficult to see the object, which the captain was interested in, so he had to lean closer. 

To the left, a tall multistoried building towered over identical looking ones. It was not completed, like everything around, but even now it was magnificent. 

“It is the Council building,” Sarek’s answer was clipped, so Spock considered it necessary to elaborate. 

“The main Vulcan governing institution. The place where disputes are settled and decisions are made.”

“So it’s the court and the government at the same time,” Spock saw Jim nod in understanding as he was still peering at the tall building. “Surely it will look just as grand inside.”

“Now we do not have ample resources yet,” Sarek suddenly joined the conversation again. “But in the course of time we shall endeavor to recreate the appropriate appearance of this place.”

Spock knew that Sarek would not add anything else to his statement, the reason of which was obvious. “Know who we are, despite everything we have lost.” It was quite expected: for Sarek the captain’s visit was a political step and as a Vulcan Spock understood his father’s intentions and agreed with them. But Spock’s human part felt offended on behalf of the captain and even Doctor McCoy. They had no blame in the tragedy – on the contrary, it was James Kirk who defeated Nero and sacrificed himself to save the ship. He deserved respect from Vulcans like no other. However, it seemed like in Sarek’s eyes James Kirk was just a human, one of those they had to tolerate on their territory. Had the proud, unyielding Vulcans any choice or at least a possibility of an alternative, they would have never allowed outworlders to step on their land. But there was neither a choice, nor an alternative. 

“Who makes up the Council now?” Kirk’s tone was innocuous, and Spock knew that the captain asked this question out of sheer curiosity. But he also noticed at once how Sarek’s back stiffened: such issues were not discussed openly, especially with captains of alien ships. 

“I understand the nature of your interest,” Spock tried to ease the tension. “Perhaps you are curious about a certain person.”

Kirk smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled. Spock saw it every time, when, as the captain put it, they were ‘on the same page’.

“So is he a member of the Council?” Kirk asked, staring at Spock.

“No.”

The crinkles disappeared and warmth in the captain’s eyes was replaced with astonishment, but he had held his post long enough and participated in many diplomatic missions to take the point and stop asking. 

Silence settled over the hovercar, but it did not last long and Spock felt illogically pleased with that. The hovercar stopped at the end of a narrow street and Sarek said that they had to cover the remaining distance by themselves. 

“Due to urgent matters I am bound to leave you here, as our ways go in different directions,” he explained. They got out and now were standing on a dusty pavement. “The reproduction center is four blocks away. Your hotel is five blocks from it to the south-east. I hope that the presence of my son will keep you from getting lost.”

“Absolutely,” Kirk said earnestly, but Sarek ignored him, nodding goodbye at Spock, and went back to the hovercar. 

“Nice to see such a warm welcome,” McCoy drawled in his favorite manner, when the hovercar left them in a cloud of dust. 

“Let’s be grateful for what we have,” Jim said and sneezed loudly. “He met us and gave us a lift to the reproduction center… almost. Well, four blocks, wasn’t it?”

He looked around enthusiastically and headed in the direction shown by Sarek. 

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Spock saw that Jim had a lot of questions, but was restraining himself to avoid touching some unpleasant topic. And he did not realize how right he was: anything related to New Vulcan triggered memories of the Old one, of things that had been and would never be the same here. 

Spock was leading the way, inadvertently looking into the faces of Vulcans that were passing by, but he did not recognize anyone. It could be explained by the fact that he had left his homeworld long ago and thus familiar faces were stored too far away in his memory. But that would be a lie, and lying was unbecoming. The truth was that all his acquaintances were dead, and here were only those who fortuitously had been in space during Nero’s attack, or those who had served on other planets: ambassadors, diplomats, counselors and their families. Those, who Spock had never met and never known. 

Nevertheless, one face seemed familiar: a young male, not much older than Spock, was walking out of the docking unit of a transport shuttle, which now was used as the medical center.

“Stane!”

The Vulcan’s face remained a mask of stony demeanor, but as Spock and his companions approached, the Vulcan looked at them with arrogance and disdain: obviously he recognized Spock too. 

“Kam’nat! Then it is true, even half-bloods were summoned.”

Spock did not dignify that with an answer, however, Jim’s behavior had always been the very opposite of Vulcan composure. 

“Whoa, easy there!”

The captain was still standing behind Spock, but undoubtedly he was ready to take a more radical course of action than a verbal warning. 

“Captain, please,” Spock raised his hand in protest and stepped between Jim and his opponent. The escapade had an immediate effect.

“Captain?” The young Vulcan did a double take at Jim’s golden tunic and Starfleet insignia, which was glimmering in the light of the midday sun. “How human have you become, Spock, that you agreed to serve under the command of humans, who are ready to start a war on a whim?” 

His tone was level, without any shade of emotion, but the phrase itself was a challenge, which was supposed to stay unanswered. Like many years ago, Spock kept silent, as did the others, but Spock could feel rage and grim determination radiating off the captain in waves.

Having failed to elicit any excuses, the Vulcan turned on his heel in contempt and strode away.

“How fucking dare that dick!” the captain spat. 

It was absurd, but he took an insult directed at Spock, as his own. That was the essence of James Kirk: he would protect his friends irrespective of circumstances, even if the situation did not require it. 

“Please disregard it, Captain. These are old grudges.” 

Surprisingly, Spock stayed absolutely calm and the primitive accusations of the bully did not affect him. 

“Well, well,” Kirk looked unimpressed with this strategy. “But I still think he was asking for a good punch in his face. I should’ve kicked his ass to teach him some manners.”

Spock shook his head.

“Violence is not an adequate way to resolve a conflict situation. I believe we both learned this lesson,” he looked at Jim intently and there was a link of understanding between them as they were recalling the recent past. Violence was the method of Nero, Admiral Marcus and Khan. It was violence that eventually destroyed them. But still, there was something else Jim needed to know. “However, once, as you put it, I ‘kicked his ass’. As you see, it had no effect.”

It seemed like this confession only amused the captain. McCoy whistled at this, diverting Spock’s attention from the captain’s laughing eyes.

“Well, I’ll be damned! I start to suspect that I’m the only person you know and haven’t beaten up yet.” 

Kirk gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs, and the doctor retorted, “What? I’m speaking the truth, that’s all! But, honestly, Spock, perhaps, you didn’t kick his ass well enough.”

Spock just shrugged his shoulder slightly instead of an answer. 

The reproduction center was close. He should fulfill his duty and never remember this day afterwards. 

* * *

As Spock had predicted, the captain and the doctor were not admitted inside. In a polite, concise, but quite insistent manner they were explained that a Starfleet captain and his Chief Medical Officer were not authorized to visit the New Vulcan Main medical center. 

Spock entered the docking unit, which was leading inside the reproduction center, and Jim could only watch his First Officer’s slightly slouched back disappear in the aseptic white corridor. Jim wasn’t happy about such turn of events, unlike McCoy, whose mood instantly improved. 

“Well, that’s it,” Bones said, hiding from the ruthless sun under the canopy of the nearest building. “It’s about time you switched on your brain, so we could go to the hotel.”

“No.”

Jim didn’t like the way his reply sounded either, but he had already made a decision, which Bones was unlikely to support. And he didn’t.

“What? Are you kidding me?” McCoy lowered his voice, getting really angry this time. “The whole morning they are making it plain that we are not welcome here. And now you are going to parade your ‘Fleet uniform on the street, like a red flag to a bull?”

Jim didn’t answer, although he understood that Bones was right. The doctor, as usual, grasped the main point: Jim’s behavior was unreasonable and even foolish. He shouldn’t look for trouble, it would be prudent to keep out of Vulcans’ way. Seriously, he’d use common sense, but there was a reason. One tall, logical reason with pointy ears. Jim was worrying about Spock, which made all rational ways irrelevant. 

“And still, I’ll stay,” he said, staring at the closed docking unit. “You can go to the hotel if you want. I’m not keeping you here.”

McCoy just shook his head sadly and stayed where he was.

“I’m afraid you’re becoming fixated on it.”

“On what?” Jim asked in confusion.

“Wishing to protect Spock,” McCoy lowered his voice again, but this time due to outrageous meaning of his words. “Vulcans indeed are acting like snotty bastards, but that can’t be helped. It’s Spock’s world, not yours, and he lived there long enough to learn how to survive. You know, for his own safety it would be much better if you quit demonstrating to Vulcans what his priorities are.” 

“I wasn’t doing anything like that.”

“You don’t say?”

McCoy looked at him pointedly, and Jim had to admit his defeat. 

“Even if it’s so, I just wanted them to know that Spock is important for Starfleet,” Jim hesitated, but eventually named his main argument. “If I were in a tough situation, he’d do the same for me.”

“Sure. But please, don’t even try to make him prove his loyalty.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Jim rubbed his temples, avoiding Bones’ gaze. His friend’s mentor tone annoyed him, but perhaps Bones was pissed because of that ungodly heat. Manners be damned, Jim sat down on the ground cross-legged. If they had to wait several hours, he would at least make himself more comfortable. McCoy sighed heavily and sat next to him. 

“I just want you to understand one thing: he is not a free supplement to your ship and neither is he your property.” 

“I don’t know what you are taking me for, but I didn’t think anything of the kind.”

“I know you perfectly well.”

“So what? Do I consider you my property as well?” Jim said playfully, trying to turn the awkward conversation into a joke. 

“The point is, I don’t consider myself one,” Bones muttered, not rising to the bait. He closed his eyes and leaned onto the whitewashed wall. Apparently, there was some deep meaning behind his last statement, but Jim chose to ignore it.

They had nothing else to talk about, so the next hour Jim amused himself by counting hovercars, which flew over their heads. He lost count after the second hundred – not because his concentration failed – at that moment the docking unit of the med center opened and Spock went outside.

“Hey!” Jim jumped to his feet and waved to the Vulcan excitedly, catching his attention. “How did it go?” he added, when his First Officer came closer. Spock looked neither pleased, nor upset, so it was unclear what the result of his tests was. 

“Satisfactory,” the Vulcan said.

“All right then,” Bones stretched luxuriously. “Let’s go to the hotel already.”

“That would be reasonable,” Spock nodded.

“Can you tell us more?” after an hour of silence Jim couldn’t stand it anymore and just had to ask something. Even the doctor was all ears: whatever he might be saying, his professional interest got the better of him. 

However Spock wasn’t keen on going into details.

“I successfully passed a number of specific tests and analyses,” the Vulcan shrugged. “The results showed that my health was on optimal level and I was fit for donating a blood sample for its subsequent usage in the Species repopulation program.”

“And?” Jim decided to get Spock to talk to prevent him from going into his shell. “Did you give a sample?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

Not very productive dialogue, but it wouldn’t stop Jim. 

“So when can you see the results? I mean, you’ll have to take part in raising of your…” Jim waved his hand in uncertainty, searching for a suitable word. But any variant would sound dumb in this situation, so he blurted out the first that came to his mind, “…posterity.” 

Spock closed his eyes for a moment, as if doubting, whether he had the right to disclose such information, but answered in a second.

“To avoid degeneration of the Vulcan race, all obtained genetic material shall be subjected to artificial hybridization. Due to my mixed heritage and limited variation of the available genetic material, the eventual result of this program may hardly be called my posterity. I will never know which embryos will carry a fragment of my DNA. 

“I bet they explained that to you in a very polite manner,” McCoy snorted.

Spock pursed his lips and started walking. Jim could only follow him and try to throw the disturbing thoughts out of his head. Genetic experiments on New Vulcan had a noble purpose, but Khan’s story cast a long shadow on all similar works. Originally, the eugenics experiments on Earth must have been carried out with good intentions, but eventually they nearly threw the whole planet into chaos. They could only hope that nothing like that would happen on New Vulcan and experiments for survival would not lead to the same results as the experiments for improvement. 

Meanwhile, the heat was becoming even worse. They walked less than a couple of blocks and sweat was already stinging Jim’s eyes, his fair strands soaking wet and sticking to his forehead. Now he would give a lot for a glass of cold water or a respite in the shade, but New Vulcan’s sun was still high up and buildings cast no shadows. Under the sun’s rays colors seemed faded: reddish ground, yellow houses – everything was sickly subdued and only Spock’s blue tunic reminded that there were other colors in the universe. 

“Well, that’s where we are going to stay,” McCoy said indifferently when they stopped at the hotel’s entrance. The building, like everything around them, was absolutely new and dull. Pragmatism and utility must have been the principles the unknown builders used. But Jim felt uneasy because of one more thing: he had hoped to see humans or other Federation representatives inside, but at the reception desk they were met by a gaunt Vulcan with the ubiquitous expression of restrained disapproval on his face. 

“Unfortunately, we do not have three vacant rooms on the same floor,” he said, his eyes pausing for a moment at them. “I can offer you a twin room on the second floor and a single room on the first floor.”

Actually Jim didn’t care and he signed the documents quickly, thinking only of the longed-for coolness of his room and a possibility to avoid displeased looks for at least a few minutes.

“You and the doctor can proceed through the corridor to the right,” the Vulcan said to Jim, when all formalities were completed. “Your room is ready.” 

The news was damn good, but something clicked in Jim’s head. 

“We didn’t say how we were going to distribute the rooms.”

The Vulcan didn’t even raise his eyebrow.

“It was logical to surmise that representatives from Earth would find it more comfortable to share a room.”

“Logical for whom?” Jim was about to ask, but McCoy’s warning gaze stopped him.

“This time your logic was flawed,” he said instead. “It would be more logical for me to stay with my First Officer.” 

Now the Vulcan did raise his eyebrow, but his reaction was hardly surprise – it was a mere acceptance of the fact, more likely. For a moment, a heavy silence filled the room. 

“I understand,” the Vulcan said with perfect professionalism, casting an inscrutable look at Spock. 

Jim cursed inwardly: he wasn’t going to discuss mixed heritage of his First Officer, but the effect he achieved was quite the opposite. No matter what, all communication with representatives of the most logical race in the galaxy led to one and the same topic. Much to his chagrin, obviously Spock realized it too. 

“In this case, please give us the keys,” Spock said coldly to the receptionist and headed in the direction they had been told. 

Jim took the plastic card and hurried after him, forgetting about the doctor, who still had to find out the location of his room. 

“So you don’t mind?” Jim caught up with Spock nearly at the door. “Sharing a room with me?”

The question sounded stupid after the cocky tone he was speaking in a minute ago. 

“Certainly, privacy is of importance to… me, however, let me remind you that it is not the first occasion when you and I have to share accommodation. I see no reasons to ask me such questions.”

“Yeah, sure.” 

Jim inserted the plastic card into the door lock slot, pretending that he didn’t notice the choice of Spock’s words. Here he didn’t refer to himself as Vulcan, or thought that he had no right to do so. 

It was dark and cool in the room and Jim’s tunic, still damp with sweat, felt nice against his skin, but Jim made the temperature a few degrees higher for the sake of his roommate. 

“Interesting, there’s no window,” Jim said, trying to fill the awkward silence. “There must be some way out to the terrace.”

“Captain, you have only ten minutes to get ready,” Spock said, looking all too suddenly absorbed in rummaging through his sparse belongings. “We are awaited in the unloading area. I am sure that Mr. Scott will soon start looking for us.”

“Duty above all, I know,” Jim said unenthusiastically, but Spock couldn’t hear him from the room already with the bathroom door closed. He took off his clammy tunic and undershirt and splashed his face with cold water, washing away sweat and dust at least for a while. 

Jim lingered in the bathroom for another minute, trying to come up with something smart to say when he walked out to dispel the awkwardness that appeared between him and Spock. Nothing came to his mind: he couldn’t find anything positive in the current situation besides that they were leaving in three days, but it was far from the best way to cheer Spock up.

Jim sighed, went out of the bathroom and saw with relief that Spock was not alone. His First was speaking with another Vulcan. 

“My name is Tevik,” the stranger introduced himself, extending his hand to Jim for a handshake in a human manner. “I am here to drive you to the unloading area.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jim replied, shaking his hand warily and preparing himself to resentment this Vulcan was surely going to treat him with after this formal gesture. But no such thing happened. His new acquaintance didn’t look away or become closed off, which was unusual. 

Tevik’s appearance was similar to that of other Vulcans Jim had seen: tall, athletic figure and a usual bowl cut. But somehow the expression on his face wasn’t a stony mask – perhaps, due to lively gleam in his eyes and slightly upturned corners of his mouth. If it wasn’t genuine friendliness, at least it was willingness for further cooperation. 

“My hovercar is waiting for you at the entrance of the hotel. If you are ready, we can depart immediately,” Tevilk added in the same calm and courteous tone. 

“There are no reasons for delay,” Spock said and glanced at Jim, apparently checking whether the captain was ready and looking assured that he was. Jim touched his hair involuntarily, brushing away invisible water drops. “We are ready to go with you.”

“Your dad didn’t say he would send a hovercar for us,” Jim said to Spock quietly, watching McCoy nod in response to Tevik’s ta’al. Perhaps only the captain was honored with a handshake. 

“It was Tevik’s initiative,” Spock replied. “His duties include keeping account of medical equipment delivered by the Enterprise. When I was taking the tests this morning, he offered his help, and I assumed it was reasonable to accept it.”

“So you guys got acquainted before,” the captain said with obvious disappointment. Spock looked at him intently, but didn’t comment on it. 

It was absolutely impossible, but in less than an hour the heat became not just oppressive, but completely unbearable, as if the sun grew even larger. Maybe Sarek was right and they didn’t belong here, but on the other hand, there were not so many places in the galaxy, missions to which would be an exotic joyride. Now Jim thought that Spock’s personal initiative of cooperating with Tevik wasn’t a bad idea after all. He rubbed his hands together and examined himself: by the evening the uncovered skin would get sunburns and he would have to ask Bones to give him some burn ointment. But now he wouldn’t complain, he would put a smile on his face and do everything that was necessary. Moreover, Spock would be at his side, so Jim would protect him from all troubles, if Jim himself didn’t get into trouble, of course. 

However, McCoy, who was sitting in Tevik’s hovercar and studying something intently outside the window, looked moody and that meant trouble. Pleading forgiveness promised to be long and excruciating. Most likely, Jim would hear a lot of nice things about himself. 

“Excuse me, Tevik,” the doctor said, pointedly ignoring Jim, who sat beside him, “do you have something like a siesta here? I’m afraid many people are going to have a heat stroke during the work in such a climate.” 

“Please do not concern yourself, Doctor,” Tevik replied politely. “The local climate only seems to be harsh at first. Vulcans did search for a planet with suitable living conditions, after all.”

“Oh, why didn’t I realize it before,” McCoy muttered and turned to the window again. Tevik didn’t notice the sarcasm and started off the hovercar, giving the passengers a possibility to look at the settlement from above once again. 

“What do you think, Spock, will we manage in three days?” Jim whispered to Spock, when the silence in the hovercar became deafening. 

“According to the unloading plan, it will take four standard days, Captain,” Spock answered in a level voice. “Even though the protective screen, which shields the entire planet, prevents usage of transporters, I shall do my best to optimize our work and complete the task as soon as possible.”

Jim just nodded in reply. So much for informal conversations on New Vulcan.

The view outside the tinted windows of the hovercar was still boring, but Spock and the doctor kept silent, peering at the landscape of New Vulcan. Jim sighed bitterly and leaned back in his chair. His organism had adjusted to the climate a little, so sitting idle got on his nerves. Fortunately, soon the hovercar began to slow down, and Jim saw a large construction site, where many Vulcans, humans and representatives of other Federation races were working. The construction was well under its way, and judging by the scale of works, they were building some big center here. 

“At last ye have arrived, Captain,” Scotty hailed Jim from the Enterprise the moment the hovercar stopped. “We are ready tae send the first cargo shuttle tae the planet.”

“Great!” Jim rubbed his palms together in anticipation, happy to get to work he knew well. At least during the next several hours he wouldn’t have to solve issues that he couldn’t control or worry about things he couldn’t change. 

* * *

“Wonderful, just wonderful,” McCoy kept muttering until the captain called him to order. 

Spock didn’t say anything, but he was grateful to Jim for it. Another confrontation would result in unfavorable consequences, for the people from Earth primarily. However, the probability of a new scandal was very high: having told Dr. McCoy to be quiet, the captain could not refrain from commenting himself. 

“Spock, you didn’t say he would be here too,” Jim whispered under his breath, but everyone in a ten foot radius heard him nonetheless, including the Vulcan supervising the unloading. The look in Stane’s eyes became slightly disgusted, but he didn’t utter a word, showing that this time he would not descend to a verbal altercation with outworlders. 

“I was not informed of that,” Spock answered in a reserved tone, trying to stay calm and convey the message to his companions. But it was too late. The captain raised his head, squared his shoulders, his mood far from amicable. One spark would be enough to start a fire. Spock was prepared to act as a peacemaker again, but a chirping communicator helped to avoid a quarrel, which was almost inevitable. 

“Captain,” Scott’s voice could be barely heard and the transmission was constantly interfered with static. “Our scanners have detected an outburst of solar activity, which is now jammin’ our sensors and affectin’ navigation equipment of the ship and shuttles. I'm afraid we have tae postpone the unloadin’ for a while.”

“Trouble never comes alone,” Kirk hissed, adjusting the communicator controls, but static grew stronger, although they still managed to maintain the connection. The captain threw back his head and narrowed his eyes, looking at the incandescent sphere of the sun. Spock followed his example involuntarily and realized in a second how illogical it was. There was no way he could visually identify the presence of solar flares and confirm Chief Engineer’s words. It was an entirely human gesture and an entirely human wish to see everything with one’s own eyes.

“Can we somehow compensate the adverse effect on the equipment?” the captain asked finally, looking down at the communicator. “Or can we control routes of the shuttles from the ground?”

Pops and clicks of static became even louder, but he still could hear Scotty’s voice. 

“It’s no good from here, sir, that’s for sure!”

“Opinion, Spock?” the captain had already made a decision, but like many times before, wanted to know his First’s take on the matter. Spock shrugged.

“Not rational, it will take us not less than four hours to get all necessary ground-based equipment ready, moreover, in this case we will need to calibrate navigational systems of the shuttles.”

“In other words, you’re suggesting that we wait until the storm passes,” Spock could hear reserved satisfaction in the captain’s voice. There was also determination – the captain always lowered his tone that way, when he was preparing himself for an unpleasant conversation. “Scotty, put the unloading on hold and take care of the ship. I’ll contact you later, now I have issues to settle here.”

Spock knew what would happen next.

“Any problems, Captain Kirk?” Stane was the first among the Vulcans to speak up. It was logical and well expected, but still unsettling. “I would like to point out that you are already twenty minutes behind schedule, but for you it must be a negligible delay.”

“And I would like to point out that it’s presumptuous to discuss possibilities with so few facts at your disposal,” the captain countered easily, and Spock felt somewhat relieved. The captain was speaking without bravado, in a confident and professional manner. “We’ll have to postpone the works until the solar flares stop. I’m very sorry, but I can’t risk my people.”

Stane’s face remained expressionless, but there was some subtle change in him. Spock intuitively felt that the situation got even worse. 

“Of course, Captain Kirk,” the wind brought an ominous whisper, “you will not risk your people. Starfleet is quite experienced in it, especially where Vulcan and its inhabitants are involved.”

Spock closed his eyes for a moment. It was too much, even for a Vulcan, who lost everything. No grief could excuse direct insulting of a person, who had done so much to eliminate Nero. Spock knew that he must intervene – his duty of a Starfleet officer required it, as well as his personal loyalty to James Kirk. 

“Such a statement is groundless, you know just as well as everyone, what losses Starfleet sustained when Vulcan was attacked,” Spock said to his own surprise. Vulcans surrounding Stane were staring at the strangers with disapproval. Hostility was almost palpable. 

“In no way can losses justify the fact that Vulcan did not receive any help when it required it most,” Stane replied arrogantly, addressing to no one in particular, because Spock was no one, in his opinion.

The real meaning of Stane’s words could not be less clear. Spock knew what concerns all Vulcans had. Recent events that had taken place in near-Earth space caused a new wave of speculations about corruption in Starfleet. Many believed that the policy of knowledge and resource exchange for space exploration and cooperation between races was no longer implemented. “Losses are not a sufficient justification, they did not prevent you from challenging the Klingon Empire and nearly starting a war” – that was what he had implied. 

Spock felt the captain looking at him. Jim made no attempt to argue and Spock understood his mental message: to continue this conversation was unreasonable and even dangerous. 

“However,” Tevik joined in unexpectedly, “I do not understand how this discussion can help us to solve the issue of delay in unloading of the humanitarian aid,” he said soothingly. 

“If we keep ignoring the fact that the person in charge of these people,” Stane gave Kirk a disparaging nod, “is an emotionally unstable individual, obsessed with supremacy of humans in Alpha Quadrant, this discussion is indeed pointless.”

An icy look, which Stane threw at the Vulcan, who dared to defend Starfleet representatives, was familiar to Spock since his childhood. The captain stepped forward.

“Glad that the issue is solved, then. Stane, the unloading will be postponed till tomorrow. It’s a final decision,” the captain was very pale, but his voice was determined and firm. 

When they were leaving the unloading area in the same hovercar, the doctor grumbled, “Don’t know how I’m gonna survive one more day on this goddamned planet.” He did not try to hide his anger from Spock, and Spock did not blame him for that. Vulcans were doing everything to make their stay here unbearable, and the crew of the Enterprise would gladly leave the planet, but the circumstances were above wishes of humans and Vulcans themselves. 

They ate dinner at the hotel in the same sullen and oppressive atmosphere. The food was nutritious, but absolutely bland for humans. Jim tried to lighten the mood now and then, to cheer up the doctor and Spock, but soon he gave up his fruitless efforts and was finishing his meal silent and deep in thought. Spock did not like seeing Jim in this state, even though he had criticized the captain’s excessive emotionalism, which was inappropriate in public, on many occasions. But melancholy did not become the captain at all. James Kirk, a natural leader, always motivated and inspired people around him to be better and do their best. Spock admired and could not fathom it at the same time. He knew he was under the influence of the captain’s charm too, perhaps even more than he would acknowledge. 

After dinner Kirk and McCoy went to the doctor’s room to discuss a list of medical supplies, which were to be a priority during the next day’s unloading. Maybe the doctor would scold the captain for something and a friendly banter would make them feel better. Spock hoped for that, because his own brooding would only upset the captain even more. But when the captain went out of the door, Spock stared at it several seconds with irrational longing. 

He went to their shared room. The heat of the day was over at last, and Spock used a mechanism in the wall alcove to open the shutters and a door to a spacious terrace. The wind was dry and warm. The mountains, which towered over the horizon, were already hidden in the darkness, but the sky over Spock’s head was still anthracite grey, touched only slightly by the descending twilight. 

Spock did not plan to stay on the terrace for a long time, as there were yet things to do, but he allowed himself one more minute of respite, trying to get used to the planet, which was supposed to become a new home for him. But he did not feel anything – not because he was Vulcan and suppressed his feelings – this place just did not evoke any emotions in him. Class M planet, suitable for humanoid life, hot, but unstable climate. That was all he could say, looking at the darkening plane, which was stretching for many miles around. 

“There’s no moon here,” the captain’s voice sounded unexpectedly and very close. Spock was surprised that he did not notice as the captain came, but hid his confusion behind a logical question.

“Does it matter to you?”

Kirk shrugged and leaned on a low-level fence, peering at the invisible horizon far away. The white canvas of the Milky Way could be seen already in the black sky. New Vulcan was covered in darkness, only stars shed their cold light on its planes. 

“You know, now there are too few places on Earth, where you can see stars well at night. If there were no moon, there wouldn’t be any other source of light at all.”

Spock could add that he was quite aware of sentimental attachment humans had to the natural satellite of their planet and of great influence the Moon had had in development of their space exploration program, but, to his own surprise, he said something else. 

“Vulcan never had natural moons, but in 40 Eridani system the orbit of my planet was very close to those of two more planetoids. When the weather was especially clear, icy peaks of Delta Vega could be observed by the unaided eye.” 

“Yeah, I got well acquainted with them. Still can’t look at winter landscapes without a shudder,” Jim tried to joke. They never discussed that shameful deed, when Spock had let his emotions rule over and marooned cadet Kirk, who had dared to question his decision, on a glacial planet. Now they knew each other for more than a year and had many things left unspoken between them. “But somehow I’m not surprised.”

“Could you elaborate?” Spock voice stayed level, but Jim’s attention caused a fluttering feeling inside him. 

“When you were a child, you liked to look at the sky too,” the captain’s pale face lit up with an open smile. “Spock, that’s great.”

“Thank you” and “You are mistaken” collided in Spock’s head, as he opened his mouth and closed it again. Just like that time, when he had been transferred to USS Bradbury and Jim had told him, “I’m gonna miss you”, he couldn’t find words to reply. The blue eyes were watching intently as he was struggling with an answer, but this time the captain did not look disappointed. 

There was an awkward pause. Spock looked away from Jim with an effort and realized that for the first time in a long while they were alone together. Usually they were surrounded by other people: the crew or natives of planets they visited during Starfleet missions. They stayed alone only for a short time, like earlier today, when they had been checking into the hotel. They did not do it on purpose, at least Spock had thought so, but now, standing so close to Jim, he knew that there was a reason after all. 

It was necessary to say something and ease the tension. Talking about work would help to return their conversation to an appropriate mode. Spock was about to ask the captain politely whether he and the doctor had updated the unloading plan, but Jim spoke first, and that had nothing to do with work. 

“I guess I owe you an apology,” he pursed his lips, glanced at his boots and then looked up at Spock again. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a suppressed sigh. “My behavior today must’ve been unpleasant to you.”

“What are you talking about, Captain?” Spock raised his eyebrow in a genuine surprise. He called Jim captain again, but now it would not help him to distance himself.

“About me and what I said to your dad and other Vulcans…” Jim waved his hand to convey some sort of meaning. Spock tried to object, but Jim went on, “it’s just, I’m not used to the thought that you have something so important in your life and it’s not related to… the Enterprise.”

That was straightforward and even intimate in a way. They both knew what Jim meant instead of the ship. The captain’s gaze was burning Spock’s skin. They had come so close to the point of no return only once, when they had been saying goodbye, separated by the glass. They had been desperate, sharing the pain of losing something that began, but would never come true. Now it was different. 

“The Enterprise is very important to me,” Spock said slowly, his breathing hitched. “Perhaps, you do not realize how. But I cannot reject my world and my duty to New Vulcan.”

This should have brought them both to their senses, but Jim came even closer, invading Spock’s personal space. 

“I understand,” Jim nodded slightly, still looking into Spock’s eyes. He put his hands on Spock’s forearms and squeezed his elbows. Spock felt his Vulcan control crumble and fall down into bits and pieces – so determined and tender was this gesture, so avidly he craved it, needed it. “I just want to say,” Jim continued, oblivious to Spock’s emotional turmoil, “that guy, Stane… don’t believe his words about you.”

Jim squeezed Spock’s elbows once again, his thumbs stroking Spock’s forearms. Maybe Jim was trying to support and soothe his First, but he was unaware that his actions achieved a completely opposite effect. Spock started to panic, but at the same time he was fighting the temptation to give in, to let Jim take this closeness to its logical conclusion. This conflict disarranged his thoughts like a most potent inebriating substance. 

“You should not worry, Captain. I am immune to such taunting since my childhood,” his mouth went dry and words were coming heavy as stones, sounding rough and unnatural. Jim did not believe him.

“Spock, you are the best person I know,” he whispered. “Please, never forget that.”

Spock was not ready for this confession and on the spur of the moment stepped back from Jim, pulling free of his arms and blinking to break the spell of his blue eyes. Jim did not expect it and swayed, but managed to retain his balance. 

“Sorry,” he said apologetically and swept his hand across his forehead, “I keep violating your borders today. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“On the contrary, Captain,” Spock straightened his tunic, trying to regain his emotional control. Logic could protect him from feelings that were making him vulnerable. “You value my professionalism of a Starfleet officer. It is logical.”

“You’ve got me there,” Jim smiled ironically and swayed again. Spock frowned: now, with his emotions under control, he saw that something was wrong with the captain. 

“If I hadn’t been a captain, I wouldn’t have known… how amazing you are… your talents…” Jim didn’t notice that his words wouldn’t form into sentences anymore. Spock became anxious and dashed forward, but he was late: the captain swayed again and lost his consciousness. He didn’t hear Spock calling him in alarm. 

________  
*Kam’nat – treason 


	2. Chapter 2

Jim was staring straight before him with his eyes wide open, but couldn’t see anything. Only in a few minutes thick darkness gave way to pulsing grayness and outlines of objects around. Hearing was the first of senses that fully returned to him. 

“One more word, Spock, and I swear to god, I’ll throw you out of the room!” McCoy could hardly suppress his irritation and keep from becoming plain rude. Jim felt a hypo stinging his neck and a strong smell of ammonia. It was enough for him to cringe and move away. 

“What the hell? Bones, what are you doing?” he croaked, trying to raise himself on his elbows. His body was moving with difficulty, there was incessant ringing in his ears and black spots in front of his eyes. Doctor’s concerned face was blurred and vague, as if in a distorting mirror. Last time Jim had experienced something like this, he had stayed in sickbay for a couple of weeks for a good reason. 

“Jim, you fainted,” Spock appeared beside the doctor. If Jim didn’t know better, he’d think that Spock was really worried: his face pale, a crease between his eyebrows and an intent gaze of his brown eyes. 

“No need to state the obvious,” McCoy snapped, ignoring his previous promise, and stared at the display of his medical tricoder. “How are you feeling?”

Jim shrugged and this simple movement caused a dull pain somewhere in the back of his head. The air was stuffy. He was lying on his own bed in the room he was sharing with Spock. The door to the terrace was still open, and it was already dark outside, so perhaps he didn’t stay unconscious too long. 

“Had been better,” Jim decided to tell the truth. Spock’s stiff posture and McCoy’s grim face were unnerving. “I got overheated in the sun or something?”

“I’d like to know,” McCoy muttered and tapped the tricoder display irritably. “Your vitals are off the scale, there was an exponential burst of synaptic activity in your nervous system.”

“As if I understood a word you said,” Jim tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. He knew he must be in bad shape, because his pain instantly reflected on Spock’s face. “But please don’t act as if it’s the end of the world.”

“I am definitely not acting in such a manner,” Spock stirred slowly at last and came closer to Jim’s bed. “Doctor does not have reliable data to make a prognosis of your state.”

“Damn right,” McCoy agreed, not looking away from his tricoder. “I can’t understand what set off this synaptic disorder. Jim, what were you doing before you passed out?”

Jim and Spock exchanged a short look, as if they were really guilty of something and had something to hide.

“Spock and I were talking,” Jim replied, pinching the bridge of his nose and feeling a shoot of acute pain coming from the base of his neck, “just talking.”

“I see,” McCoy said. He made several adjustments in the tricoder and brought it to Jim’s head again. It was annoying, but bearable; however, Jim was surprised that Bones didn’t retort. It wasn’t like him – he never missed an opportunity to aggravate Spock. But no scathing jokes, no cynical comments, not even sarcastic grumbling followed. Jim was starting to feel ill at ease. He inhaled deeply and glanced at Spock, trying to obtain at least a bit of Vulcan composure. 

“We must go back to the ship,” McCoy said at last. “With this equipment I can heal a laceration or fix a dislocated limb, but I need to take a molecular scan. Time to pack up and leave, Jim.”

Getting away from New Vulcan was all Jim wanted at the moment, but, unfortunately, it was impossible. 

“I am sorry, Doctor, but now we cannot leave the planet,” Spock’s voice sounded as firm as McCoy’s a second ago. “The influence of solar flares will not allow a shuttle to go into orbit.”

“You prefer to wait for good weather?” McCoy asked angrily. “And watch Jim getting worse?”

Spock looked as if he had just been slapped in the face. 

“No, Doctor,” Spock said harshly. “I prefer to seek help from those who can provide it immediately.”

“Are you out of your Vulcan mind?” McCoy asked in disbelief. There was no time for arguments, Spock must understand that! But the Vulcan seemed unfazed. 

“Mr. Tevik proved to be a trustworthy specialist, and in these circumstances we need his help,” Spock’s tone was unwavering. 

“I won’t leave Jim in the hands of these…” McCoy began scornfully, but seeing Spock’s face darken, decided to change his tactics. “Do you understand that it may be the consequence of the recent blood transfusion from Khan to Jim? What if this is a side effect? He may be dying!”

“Do you think that…” Spock’s voice faltered before he could finish the phrase. Jim tried to take a deep breath again, but a sharp pain made him give up any further experiments. 

“I’m not sure,” McCoy rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. “Jim’s own blood components should’ve restored by now, but you know perfectly well that Khan was full of surprises. He had a mixture of chemicals instead of blood, man! And there was no time for thorough research. We must get to my sickbay at once.”

“Glad that everybody’s interested in my opinion,” Jim managed to interrupt them. Maybe, while he was out cold in sickbay for a couple of weeks due to his ‘kinda death’, these two got used to speaking over his head, but Jim definitely didn’t like being talked about in third person. Both of them, the doctor and the Vulcan, turned their heads simultaneously to the captain. “I’m not dying yet, alright?”

Spock nodded at Jim, but looked tense and flustered. McCoy furrowed his brow.

“Look who’s making diagnoses here,” he muttered under his breath. 

“We’ll accept help from Vulcans,” Jim said.

Spock let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“What?” McCoy yelled. 

“We’ll accept help from Vulcans,” Jim repeated insistently, “but you’ll be my attending physician.”

“Captain, may I remind you that it can pose problems?” Spock was looking at Jim’s face with apprehension and concern, trying to find any new symptoms of illness.

“Spock, I believe in your diplomatic talent,” Jim gave him a dazzling smile. “Besides, there’s somebody we can turn to.” 

* * *

A deep scratch on a white door began at 2.3 cm from the floor and went at an angle of approximately 48-49 degrees. Spock shifted from one foot to another and looked around. He was in the corridor of the medical center long enough to notice other signs of its unsettled state. Paint on the walls was faded and bulkheads were not aligned with each other properly. The reasons of it were obvious and logical to some degree. The ship, which at the end of its service life was refitted as a medical center, had been originally designed as a cargo shuttle and was ill-suited for laboratories, operating rooms and other New Vulcan scientific facilities. A complex of buildings would be more appropriate for such purposes, but it was yet to be built. The more Spock tried to busy his mind with its usual occupation – gathering and analyzing data – the more he realized that it was only a method to escape disturbing thoughts. 

Kirk, McCoy and Tevik disappeared behind the door of a diagnostic ward five minutes after the hovercar landed in front of the entrance to the shuttle. Spock stayed in the corridor. He had neither medical experience nor sufficient medical knowledge to be present during the examination. He had only anxiety and a wish to know what was happening to the captain every second. Perhaps, these reasons would be valid for Leonard McCoy, but not for Tevik, who already showed the utmost tact and professionalism by agreeing to meet with the Terrans in the middle of the night. It was more than Spock had hoped for, but much less than was necessary for Jim. 

“Alright, come on in,” doctor McCoy, tired and dispirited, went out of the ward only to return there in a second. Spock did not need an additional invitation and followed him, trying to take a cue from his tone and movements, how serious the captain’s state was.

The diagnostic ward was not large: it was a refitted cabin. As expected, it was furnished in a rational and practical way, only with necessary equipment. 

“Hey, Spock,” the captain was lying on the bed and smiling cheerfully, but he was still very pale and obviously trying to move as little as possible. Even if Doctor McCoy and Tevik managed to find the reason of the captain’s sudden ailment, they were not able to help him. 

With Spock’s entrance the small room became crowded. 

“Captain,” he said timidly, an unasked question in the air.

Tevik hurried to the door, explaining that he had an urgent task to perform. But before leaving the ward, he cast a curious glance at Spock. Their eyes met, Tevik excused himself and left the room. Spock felt uneasy deep inside and closed his eyes for a moment – no Vulcan should notice his emotional investment in the captain’s health. 

“We’ve got problems,” McCoy said, “and big ones, for that matter.”

“Bones is overly dramatic, as always,” Jim tried to dismiss the doctor’s concerns, waving his hand weakly, but his strained smile gave him away. 

McCoy only shook his head.

“For some unknown reason nerve conduction velocity in Jim’s organism increased exponentially. All impulses, which go from presynaptic membrane of nerve cells to postsynaptic one, become amplified and that causes painful reaction in the brain. It can be compared to a neural torture,” the doctor verified the data on his PADD. “This process is progressing rapidly. Soon not only moving, but even breathing will be too painful for Jim!” 

Usually Spock could distance himself from the doctor’s emotions and single out only relevant information, but now they were resonating with his own feelings – an overwhelming fear of losing the captain again. When the captain had returned to the Enterprise, Spock had convinced himself that he would never let fear control his thoughts again. But now the doctor’s words proved that it was not so. He released an audible breath.

“Is there a method to reverse such effects?” Spock asked. 

“We must find the origin of this illness,” the doctor shrugged. “Otherwise I can only prescribe him vitamins.”

“What variants did Tevik suggest?” logically, Spock tried to search for alternatives.

“Even if he had any ideas, he didn’t share them with us,” McCoy raised his eyebrow and returned to checking the readings of his bioscanner.

“I see,” Spock said. It was all he wanted to know at the moment. “In this case I must go.”

“But why?” Jim asked in surprise. “He’s a doctor too. Do you think he wouldn’t tell us if he knew a method of treatment?”

No, Spock did not think so. Spock knew that Tevik did everything he could to help the Terrans, made all necessary tests and provided all necessary equipment, but only within the boundaries of standard procedures of assistance to representatives of alien races. Spock was interested in something that was outside those boundaries. Something that Vulcans would do for each other, but never for outworlders. 

He walked out of the ward and went along the corridor to another cabin, which now became a genetic research laboratory and where New Vulcan’s future was stored in glass tubes. 

“I need to talk to you,” Spock got to the point at once. “What prognosis can you make regarding the captain’s state with current progress of his illness?”

“He will die,” Tevik’s answer was as straightforward. What meant a catastrophe for Spock, for the other Vulcan was a mild regret over a premature end of life. Spock could not blame him, but he was not going to accept this indifferent and detached reply either. 

“Vulcan doctors have a vast experience in treatment of mental disorders and neurological deviations,” Spock deemed it necessary to remind him a well-known fact. “I am sure that there are special methods or at least experimental developments.” 

“Of course,” Tevik continued just as candidly, but now sadness in his voice was mixed with bitterness and mourning. “Only it all perished with Vulcan 1.32 years ago.”

Spock held Tevik’s long gaze. It was true that nothing was going to be the same after the tragedy, but he had to find out how to help Jim. 

“I understand that there were unredeemable losses,” Spock clasped his hands behind his back, he always felt more confident in this posture, “but even if not a single specialist in neurological surgery survived, I assume that at least some research data or scientific works were preserved or…”

“Mister Spock,” Tevik curtly interrupted Spock’s reasoning. “You are right, such data must have been preserved, but you see yourself that now New Vulcan is in a state of chaos. All our resources are dedicated to vital issues of providing life support for the survivors. The reproduction center is functioning in a strictly defined order to ensure repopulation of our race. I believe it is unnecessary to explain to you how dire our situation is.” He made two steps towards a transparent cabinet, where a part of genetic material was stored. “I regret to tell you that your friend does not have enough time for us to attempt something substantial.” 

“However, if a Vulcan had a degradation of neural pathways, you would try to apply special methods, would you not?” Spock knew that he was overstepping the invisible line, but he had to ask this question. 

“Naturally,” Tevik nodded. Vulcans did not lie and Spock used this tenet to his advantage. “Vulcan nervous system is highly sensitive to mental stimuli of different kinds. Theoretically, a standard meld could have a certain therapeutic effect.”

A mind meld was an extremely intimate and very risky procedure. Spock understood why Tevik was reluctant to share his opinion on the matter. 

“Captain Kirk is human,” Tevik said, having noticed Spock’s pensive expression. “Human and Vulcan physiologies have significant differences. Consequences of cross-species treatment via this method may be unpredictable.” 

Spock inclined his head. Of course, this procedure posed a considerable risk both for Jim and a person, who would wish to help him. It was obvious even without medical education. On the other hand, something was telling him that his half-Vulcan physiology might be a key in solving of this problem. 

Everything else was irrelevant. Spock knew he must give it a try, even though he was terrified at the prospect of touching the captain’s mind. A mind meld was not something unusual for him, he had done it before: in his childhood, when he had been mastering this side of his Vulcan abilities; in adolescence, when he had been practicing his skills of establishing telepathic contacts; on Nero’s ship, when he had tried to access information in the mind of that Romulan about Captain Pike’s location; and very recently, with Captain Pike himself when the man had been dying. The technique was familiar – a mind, however, was not.

All previous occasions did not require revealing his own thoughts. Those were one-sided contacts: either studying or searching for information. At present he was going to step into unknown territory, because a healing meld was deeper and more personal, an entirely new experience. In human terms it could be compared to looking through a diary: the other participant of the meld would not see the whole picture, but would be able to perceive some fragments. 

Jim knew him well, so he could piece together those mental images, which would mean nothing to a stranger. If the captain saw some unpleasant episodes of Spock’s life – kaiidth, what was, was. But his strong and illogical feelings to Jim were a secret he wanted to keep. 

Nevertheless, it was a small price to pay for Jim’s well-being. Spock would give his life for Jim, why should a risk of showing his soul stop him?

“I shall take your comments into consideration,” he said to Tevik and returned to the diagnostic ward. Nothing changed during his absence: Dr. McCoy was still monitoring readings and Jim was still lying on a biobed. Only the sky outside the window became lighter – dawn was drawing near.

“It is possible to try one method,” Spock’s tone was calm, creating an illusion that there was nothing special about it. But Jim’s eyes flew open and then narrowed; obviously, the captain suspected what Spock was driving at. 

“A mind meld,” Spock continued, feeling McCoy’s distrustful gaze on him. “It is one of Vulcan techniques. I cannot guarantee a positive result, but it is a chance we should take.”

“And what does this mind meld represent?” McCoy asked skeptically, but with a tinge of interest in his voice.

“A telepathic contact of minds,” Jim replied, making McCoy look at him instead. “The other Spock has already used this method on Delta Vega to show me Nero’s history. It’ll do me no harm.” 

Jim brought his hand to his face involuntarily and touched the psi points. Spock watched this motion and sat at the end of Jim’s bed. He did it instinctively, out of convenience, and realized only a second later that he could have asked for a chair. Jim sat up on the bed too, and their gazes locked. Captain’s blue eyes were looking at him without fear, full of hope and endless trust. Jim believed in Spock more than the Vulcan believed in himself, and that gave him determination he needed so much. 

Spock took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind from stray thoughts. His heart was pounding, but its rhythm was level. He knew what he was doing. The only questions were whether it would be enough and whether he would be able to hide his feelings from Jim. 

* * *

Everything ended fast. Jim remembered well his meld with the older Spock. It was an exchange of knowledge and emotions, when both parties didn’t try to hide anything from each other. Jim did it out of ignorance, but the older Spock – deliberately. A form of communication, unusual for humans, proved to be quite handy. But there was a striking difference between this and the previous experience. Spock, his Spock, turned out to be more persistent and uncompromising than his older counterpart. Jim couldn’t say for sure, but it felt like only five seconds passed from the moment a narrow hand with long fingers touched his face and the moment it broke the contact. A maelstrom of thoughts, emotions and feelings that weren’t his, overwhelmed Jim like a bucket of cold water. He didn’t have time to recollect himself or grasp at something: the next moment he was alone in his head again. 

Spock all but jerked back his hand, as if burned. What the Vulcan was afraid of? He didn’t want to open his mind or to have thoughts of a Terran in his head? Jim didn’t know. Feeling a spike of disappointment and confusion, he leaned forward to keep the connection, without realizing it at first. He expected the pain in the back of his head, but it wasn’t there.

Spock was already standing, his hands clasped behind his back. Having failed to preserve mental barriers, he was compensating on the physical level. 

“It’s incredible,” McCoy said, staring at his medical tricoder, unaware of Spock’s agitation. 

“I really feel better,” Jim confirmed, still a bit disoriented after the meld. “I’m as good as new.”

He got up smiling, but Bones was too busy to notice that the smile didn’t reach Jim’s eyes. Spock’s heavy gaze was piercing him and Jim felt self-conscious, as if he’d made some grave mistake.

“New or not,” Bones grumbled, “I need to find out what happened to you. I don’t believe in a healing touch, you know.” 

“Doctor,” Spock said, seeming composed again, “I presume we will find a way for you to return to the Enterprise in the morning to conduct further research. Now you could go to the hotel and utilize the remaining time before the unloading for sleep.”

“I take it for you sleep is overrated, right?” McCoy retorted and Jim sighed with relief: everything was going back to normal. 

Jim turned around to look out of the window. The night was gradually retreating to the west. He was full of energy as if those hours of excruciating pain had never happened, as if his nervous system hadn’t tried to kill him. Like his companions, Jim had spent more than 24 hours without sleep, but he didn’t feel tired at all. He cast a sidelong glance at Spock wondering what he did wrong. Spock saved his life again, but if the previous time had made them closer, now Spock was more aloof than during the first months of their working together. 

“Let’s not argue,” Jim said to Spock and McCoy, leaning over the bed. He found his ‘Fleet boots beside it, neatly placed one next to the other. “I suggest we all go to the hotel.”

His First and the doctor looked at him in astonishment. Soon one more bewildered gaze joined them: Tevik came into the ward. An expression of polite sympathy on his face turned into that of restrained surprise. He glanced at the readings and raised his eyebrow. 

“I feel fine,” Jim said, forestalling his question, “thanks to Spock.”

“Obviously it is so,” Tevik agreed, turning to Spock. It seemed as though a conversation without words passed between them. Jim realized that his gratitude somehow wasn’t the right thing to say. Spock stiffened, as if waiting for accusations, but Tevik just averted his eyes.

Their trip back to the hotel didn’t take much time, but when they arrived, the sun had already begun to rise and the stars had disappeared in the morning light. After the medical examination Spock stayed away from Jim. Doctor, on the contrary, was hovering over the captain with his tricoder. Three general scans, two local ones and a spectral analysis still couldn’t provide enough data, so McCoy was worried about Jim’s condition and kept complaining that they had left the medical center too soon.

“Bones, stop,” Jim brushed away the scanner, but allowed him to take a blood sample. “Get some rest, will you? You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.” 

“I’ll rest when I finish,” McCoy snapped, but finally switched off the scanner. “Keep two eyes on him,” the doctor gave Spock a pointed look before letting them go. He didn’t bother to walk them to the door.

Spock and Jim headed to their room in silence. Jim remembered his promise to Bones the day before. He had said he wouldn’t make Spock prove his loyalty, but he failed to keep his word even for a day. 

“I thought you would like to rest,” Spock raised his eyebrow in surprise, when Jim went past his bed and activated his PADD to verify the plan of unloading. Spock was still keeping aloof, but Jim had had enough attention for the time being.

“I don’t need it,” he said nonchalantly and noticed that a shadow crossed the Vulcan’s face. Maybe he needed to be alone, to meditate or do whatever Vulcans did at 4 a.m. if they didn’t want to sleep. “Well, I’ll go have breakfast.”

Jim was about to leave Spock to his own devices and didn’t expect that he would nod and follow. Feeling guilty, the captain stopped in the doorway. 

“Look, Spock, you shouldn’t take Bones’ words literally. If you don’t wanna go with me, you don’t have to. Nothing will happen to me during half an hour,” he didn’t know what to do with his hands and put his thumbs behind his belt. “You did more than enough already. I wouldn’t like to take advantage of your help anymore.” 

Spock stood very still, his expression impassive in a perfectly Vulcan manner.

“Your gratitude is superfluous,” he said curtly. “I did what was necessary. Taking into account the importance of our work here and the forthcoming mission on Betazed, it was logical to ensure the captain’s well-being.”

“No doubt,” Jim agreed. What else could he expect? The Vulcan was fulfilling his duty as a Starfleet officer and a diligent subordinate. “You ensured that I won’t shirk my responsibilities. The Enterprise will deliver its treasure to Betazed anyway.”

“I would not call it a treasure. This treasure nearly caused your demise recently.”

“But it saved my life at first. Serum from Khan’s blood is considered to be a cure-all or something. It could help many people. Vulcans, for example…” 

“Vulcans will be able to manage without it,” Spock protested, but he didn’t sound sure. “Moreover, the Federation has already made its final decision.”

Jim didn’t answer, there was no point in arguing about it. Jim didn’t want to argue with Spock about anything at all, he wished their relationship weren’t that complicated, wished they could talk to each other with ease, wished… too much, perhaps. 

Later Bones joined them and they left the hotel, when the exhausting heat returned again. The hovercar quickly drove them to the unloading area and they plunged into different tasks, negotiations and other issues, which usually preceded such procedures. 

Stane also was there, as well as Tevik, who asked politely after the captain and received an equally polite and concise answer. Except Spock, Tevik and McCoy, no one else knew about the incident. Jim was content with that: he didn’t want to cause any discussions, because Vulcans were already biased against the crew of the Enterprise. 

When the main part of medical supplies was unloaded, Bones decided to return to the ship. Jim and Spock accompanied him to the shuttle. 

“I want you to visit the medical center again tonight and send me Jim’s electroencephalogram,” McCoy demanded, having failed to talk Jim into returning to the Enterprise with him. 

“I believe Mr. Tevik shall render us his assistance,” Spock confirmed, avoiding Jim’s gaze.

“I’ll do independent research and let you know if something shows up,” McCoy continued. “And keep me updated, you understand?” 

Jim smiled ruefully.

“We won’t hide from you. There’s no one we could visit here.”

“Enjoy each other’s company, then,” McCoy scowled and activated safety belts. 

Spock’s reaction was predictable: he stiffened, bid the doctor goodbye and left the shuttle first. Jim lingered to give Bones a slap on the shoulder and assure him that everything was fine. 

Walking out of the shuttle, the captain felt sick at heart. Now that he was alone among Vulcans, it was about time he learned to hide his emotions. 

* * *

Scope of works for the day was finished and Spock noted with satisfaction that they met the schedule down to the minute. Professionalism and efficiency of the Enterprise crew made a favorable impression on Vulcans. Frequency of disapproving gazes reduced practically by half and Stane ceased his openly disdainful behavior. It provided a reason to hope that this mission would be completed without further altercations. Spock verified the data on his PADD again and glanced at Jim, the way he was doing all day long. He felt like a thief, stealing these glances, but he did his best to keep his observation unnoticed, as the captain had made it clear earlier in the morning that excessive attention burdened him.

However, neither high ambient temperature, nor intensive work seemed to affect the captain: he was giving orders in his usual lively manner, solving numerous issues with ease. He appeared to be absolutely healthy, but apprehension was still making Spock’s heart beat faster. Hands clasped behind his back, Spock approached the captain. 

“Yes, Spock, a minute,” Jim did not even look at him, signing another document on a PADD. 

Spock stood patiently beside, while the captain was going through with the tasks, and then reminded him about their planned trip to the medical center.

“Well, that’s all for today, right?” the captain said cheerfully, but his eyes stayed serious.

“Affirmative.”

“McCoy assigned the right person to keep me in order. I guess Tevik is already waiting for us?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Jim nodded and went to a vacant hovercar with Spock in tow. Their stay on New Vulcan turned into a circular route: the hotel – the point of unloading – the medical center. 

When they got to the center, Tevik walked them through a deserted corridor to avoid drawing attention of other Vulcans and showed them into an empty ward, similar to the one they had occupied the day before. 

“You know, I start getting used to it,” Jim smirked, when Tevik took a sample of his blood and brought a medical tricoder to his head. The whole procedure took less than a minute. Tevik excused himself and headed to his office to send the results to the Enterprise. 

Spock and Jim were left alone again, at a loss what to say to each other. Thankfully, Jim had not seen anything during the meld, and Spock had not tried to look deeper into the captain’s mind, breaking the contact before the human’s emotions could reach him. He had touched Jim’s mind very briefly and perceived only an echo of his thoughts. It was acceptable, but still too intense.

“Spock, if it goes on like this, I’ll forget the sound of your voice by the end of this mission,” Jim sauntered across the ward, examining its sparse furnishings. “We’re good, aren’t we?”

“Affirmative, Captain,” Spock clenched his hands behind his back, but managed to keep his voice level. “Had I something to say, I would do so.”

“I figured as much,” Jim agreed, leaning against the wall and drumming his fingers on the bulkhead. The light blue color of the walls inside the ward must have been chosen as the least stressful for the patients, but the captain did not look calm. During the day he had been energetic, but with their arrival to the medical center Jim became restless. Spock’s apprehension began to turn into worry. 

“Are you sure that you are well?” 

Jim sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, but did not give a direct answer.

“Don’t act like Bones, okay?”

“I shall call Mr. Tevik,” Spock said firmly and went to the door. Feeling numb and desperately asking himself why the symptoms of the captain’s illness returned, outwardly the Vulcan preserved his composure. He was about to walk out of the room, when Jim put his hand on Spock’s shoulder and turned him around. 

“Spock, stay,” Jim could hardly stand on his feet, the relapse of the disease was so unexpected and abrupt. His fingers squeezed the blue fabric of Spock’s tunic. Spock felt scared and helpless. 

“Jim, please, let me help you,” Spock whispered, not knowing whether he would find Tevik on time. He supported the captain, preventing him from falling. “I shall assist you to lie down.”

Jim gave him a painful smile.

“Always ready to help, but it’s not enough, you see…” Jim’s gaze was already unfocused, in a second his body became slack and his eyes closed. The captain’s pulse was weak, his face sickly pale, beads of sweat on his forehead. Spock knew instinctively that he must do something. He placed his fingers on the psi points of the captain’s face and joined their minds.

For a second a searing pain pierced Spock’s consciousness. He deepened the contact, ready for an onslaught of human emotions. None came, not even a trace. He encountered only pain and emptiness, only agony. In such cases it was reasonable to accept what was happening and break the meld, but Spock went further, through the veil of fear, to Jim’s thoughts, emotions and feelings, to his memories and experience, prompting Jim to resist the disease, to fight it. Sending an impulse was easy; however, there was a problem. Jim’s mind was calling to Spock’s, it was a great temptation to make them one, never to be parted. With a great effort Spock managed to retreat, keeping both the captain’s and his own secrets safe. Jim was not his, and Spock did not belong to Jim. He found what he was looking for, gave Jim a little more time and now it was necessary to leave. One more effort – and Spock removed his hand from the captain’s face.

Jim’s eyes were closed, his breathing slow, but even. The captain was in a state of deep sleep and there was no need to wake him. 

“I should have known,” Tevik was standing in the doorway, holding a PADD in his hands. Most probably, the doctor brought the results of Jim’s brain scan he had made ten minutes ago. Tevik shook his head in regret, which by Vulcan standards was the strongest appropriate demonstration of emotions in front of outsiders. “Our suppositions that it was a random episode of synaptic hyperactivity and recommended methods of its treatment proved to be wrong. The disease is progressing.”

“Are there any other ways to help the captain apart from melds, which have a short-term effect?”

Tevik shrugged. 

“I believe you are more knowledgeable in this subject, Mr. Spock. We have information that Terrans recently obtained a phenomenal resource to cure all illnesses, a panacea, practically a vaccine of immortality. If you have an opportunity, you might try to use it.”

Tevik held out his PADD with data of Jim’s electroencephalogram. Of course, he had no idea that the captain’s sudden illness could be directly related to this remedy for all ills or difficulties. 

“There is no use in discussing it,” Spock replied. 

After the incident with Khan, Starfleet Headquarters established a strict moratorium on the use of blood of the genetically modified people. Due to this the Enterprise was to deliver seventy-three cryotubes to Betazed for further secure storage.

“Perhaps, there is a possibility to prolong the effect of a meld?” he continued.

Tevik looked at Spock almost with pity.

“There are no such possibilities. I express my condolences to you regarding your captain, but it is impossible to help him by means of standard methods. We did everything we could, but your captain is only a human. If you have no treatment for him, all you can do is to assume his duties.” 

Spock cast a quick glance at Jim. Tevik was speaking as though Jim was already dead, but he was alive, his chest was rising and falling in unsteady breathing, his eyes were moving slightly under his lids as he was in REM stage of sleep and if Spock touched his hand, he would feel the warmth of his skin. 

“What do you mean by ‘only a human’?” Spock asked coldly.

“If he were a Vulcan, a stable bond could extend the period of resistance, but humans do not posses our advantages.”

These words were in fact a death sentence and for Tevik they meant the inevitable. Spock, however, was ready to seize this small chance of reprieve. It was an act of desperation, something, which under normal circumstances he would never think of. But now he had no other choice and it was imperative to remain calm at least on the outside. 

“May I use your comm unit?” 

Tevik nodded, presuming that Spock would hail the ship and ask for a shuttle. Spock indeed considered this variant, but discarded it. If McCoy had found a treatment, he would have notified Spock immediately. Since there was no news from the doctor, he was still trying to solve the issue. Only the matter was pressing. Spock would give up his pride and decorum, if it could help. He entered Teveik’s office and closed the door behind him. 

The recipient answered his call quickly. Spock raised his hand in ta’al, preparing for one of the most important conversations in his life. 

“Spock?” Sarek’s voice was impassive, but Spock knew he was surprised. “Is there anything you require?”

Grief after his mother’s passing brought Spock and his father closer to some extent, but years of estrangement took their toll on both. Habit, or perhaps their stubbornness, did not allow them to talk truly as father and son. They were resigned to that. Unable to share their emotions with each other, they reverted to detached demeanor, which did not make them feel awkward unlike speaking their minds did. But now Spock was ready to break that habit.

“Father, you are correct. I do indeed require your help,” Spock kept his tone official, hiding his inward anxiety. 

“Specify,” Sarek clasped his hands in front of him in the same manner as many years ago, when Spock used to report of his progress in primary school. 

“Captain Kirk suddenly became ill and doctors discovered a serious disorder of his neural pathways. At present we cannot identify the origin of the illness,” Spock hesitated, but it was illogical to avoid the point. “However, we found out that a mental support can stabilize his condition, and a permanent bond could theoretically improve it.”

Spock went silent for a second, contemplating a better way to express his thought, but Sarek’s logic was flawless.

“I surmise you were the one to provide mental support to the captain.”

His father was well aware that it could be no one else, but Spock chose to ignore his statement.

“The effect was only temporary,” he said in a reserved tone, “Captain Kirk needs a permanent bond for a complete recovery.”

“In other words, you are asking me to find a consort for your captain among the survivors?”

“Is it possible?” Spock held his breath.

“Out of the question,” Sarek said tersely. “Is that all?”

“No,” Spock did not look away from the screen. “There is an alternative. If there are no other candidates, it is logical to establish a bond between Captain Kirk and myself.”

Sarek did not answer. It was neither logical, nor was it reasonable. It was obvious for both Sarek and Spock that this decision was made under the influence of emotions. Spock only hoped that Sarek was not astute enough to see the nature of these emotions.

“I would not have asked you, if I could establish the bond without assistance,” Spock went on. “But I have not yet experienced pon farr and my mental abilities have not developed to their full potential. Therefore, the Elders…”

“Enough,” Sarek did not have to raise his voice to sound menacing. “I have no wish to hear anything of the kind.”

There were miles between them, but Sarek’s annoyance could be clearly seen via the transmission. It took Spock only a moment to compose himself. The situation was too serious to give in to his father’s authority. 

“But you are listening already,” Spock said, realizing that it was the end of truce between them. “Vulcans are indebted to James Kirk, it is our duty to help him.” 

The last phrase had a strange effect on Sarek. Anger in his eyes turned into disappointment. 

“You have no right to talk about duty, Spock,” Sarek said slowly. His lips became a thin line. “If this word had a meaning to you, you would not have abandoned New Vulcan for Starfleet. Vulcans owe nothing to James Kirk and you cannot ask anything for him. The only thing I can give you is a piece of advice: accept what you cannot change, be a Vulcan at least in this.” 

The screen went dark, and Spock was left alone with his thoughts. A bright lamp over his head was casting clean white light on Tevik’s neat desk. This relentless order could not provide a correct solution anymore. New Vulcan should have become a new home for him, and Vulcans here – his only family. He sought from them support for somebody dear to him, but did not find even compassion. It had been expected, but still hurt. There was no other way. He had to admit that nobody on this planet would help him, no one but a certain Vulcan. 


	3. Chapter 3

A warm hand on his shoulder and a quiet “Captain” snatched Jim out of his sleep. He stayed still, enjoying the fleeting moments of closeness and in a few seconds opened his eyes. It was the same ward and the same suspended ceiling tiles. Last time, waiting for McCoy’s and Tevik’s conclusion, he had been studying the tiles over his head out of boredom. Strange, now he was lying on his back again. Spock was near and didn’t try to stay away on the other side of the room. But Jim wouldn’t be fooled.

“Don’t tell me that it happened again,” his words came out surprisingly without effort and his voice sounded brisk. So ‘it’ had happened indeed and Spock had already applied the treatment.  

“As you wish, Captain,” Spock replied submissively, avoiding Jim’s eyes.

Jim hoped that he knew his First well, that’s why he couldn’t ignore such strange behavior: Spock’s reaction differed from the previous occasion. There had to be something. 

“Come on, spill it,” Jim sat up on the bed. It was about time they stopped playing games.

The slanted eyebrows rose. The Vulcan hesitated, probably contemplating an answer, which would be evasive and yet truthful. Jim had just ruined his plans, as usual.

“I was considering different variants of your treatment,” Spock began in a level voice, but his tightly clenched hands were a dead giveaway. 

“Are they agreed with Bones?” Jim asked a suggestive question, absolutely sure that Bones hadn’t heard anything of it.

Spock only shook his head.

“Doctor McCoy does not know that you had the second episode of the illness. When I contacted him, he said that there were no positive results from his laboratory and demanded quite insistently not to disturb him during the work. However, I am concerned that his help may come too late.”

“So you decided to take matters into your own hands,” Jim went on. 

“It was necessary,” Spock confirmed in a reserved tone, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself. Jim didn’t know if it was really so, he had no idea what was on Spock’s mind.

“Captain, the only effective way to preserve your life is to establish a bond with a Vulcan. I took the liberty to offer my person as a volunteer,” Spock said and then added, “provided that you agree.”  

Jim’s heart sank. ‘Bond’ and ‘volunteer’ didn’t go well together, like two unfitting pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He needed more facts to get a clue. 

“Spock, I don’t know anything about Vulcan bonds. What are they?”

Spock answered almost at once as though he had prepared his reply beforehand. Maybe he had.

“Vulcan spouses share a steady bond, which is established during an ancient and complicated ritual, when one of the partners experiences a specific condition.” 

His manner was composed and businesslike, but it didn’t make the situation less awkward. There was a long silence in the room. Spock was looking at Jim with an expectant and sad expression. Jim didn’t know what to say. The idea could shatter his reality forever. He was at a loss what he felt more – dread or hope. 

“You are ready to do it for me?” 

“It is crucial in the current situation,” Spock answered without a hint of doubt. “You are seriously ill and there is a way I can help you. Under different circumstances I would not resort to it, but First Officer must ensure his captain’s well-being. This rule is unalterable and I shall follow it regardless of my personal opinion.”  

It cut Jim’s heart into pieces. Did Spock realize how endlessly cruel was his sincerity?

“Duty doesn’t require from you sacrificing your life for a colleague,” Jim said with defiance and Spock raised his left eyebrow in surprise.

“That will not be the case. When Doctor McCoy finds an efficient method of treatment, the bond can be dissolved.”

Jim wanted to laugh aloud – they were discussing how to get rid of something that didn’t even exist yet. Spock had really worked things out: he had carried out calculations and analyses and found an optimal solution. He was going to save Jim’s life again, but Jim didn’t want such kind of help. 

“I guess I should thank you,” he said curtly.

“Thanking me would be redundant,” Spock objected. “Thanks are irrelevant to me. Saving your life is a reward for me in itself, and, therefore, a successful completion of our mission.”

“Fine,” Jim gave a wry smile. 

To Spock’s credit, his motives were noble. If the Vulcan felt professional satisfaction in saving his superior by means of a fake marriage, so be it. It was useless to expect anything else from him.

“Okay, as soon as it becomes possible, we’ll dissolve the bond,” Jim continued. “As for now, I agree to accept your sacrifice, even if you don’t want to call it as such.”

These words created an invisible wall between them. Spock frowned slightly; a shadow of emotion crossed his face and was instantly gone. Of course, Vulcans were above their emotions, it didn’t matter if Spock was somewhat surprised by Jim’s easy acceptance. This step was very generous despite that Spock’s reasons were different from what Jim had so foolishly hoped for. Anyway, it was Jim’s problem and he wouldn’t be so petty to take his frustration out on his First, who didn’t deserve that at all.   

“Alright then, when will you do this ritual of yours?” Jim decided to go with the flow. Nothing personal, no big deal. 

“I shall need assistance, so we must depart immediately. The hovercar is ready.”

“Somehow it doesn’t surprise me,” Jim said irritably, getting up from the bed. Not only did the resourceful Vulcan come up with a solution, he also took care of everything. At least he was considerate enough to inform Jim of his plans, because it would be funny to come around married already, the worst blow to Jim’s ego imaginable.

They went out of the medical center so fast as if Spock was eager to get things done before he changed his mind about the forced and undesired bond. Jim was pretty sure Tevik didn’t know that they left in such a hurry. Fuck it, he didn’t want Spock’s charity and still followed him out of some morbid stubbornness. Jim’s acceptance of help turned into a silent act of protest, an intention to finish what they had started just to spite Spock.   

It felt like months ago, when Jim had been demoted after Spock’s report about the breach of the Prime Directive. That time, his anger at Spock had been so childish and stupid. In fact, his First had done everything right, by the book. They both had emotions, and while Jim expressed them freely, Spock was hiding his. Jim had hoped that the incident with Khan had changed it, however his hopes proved to be futile. 

Without further ado, Spock took the driver’s seat, pointedly looking only at the control panel in front of him. After a few minutes the colony was already far behind and the hovercar headed in the direction of mountains to the south-east. 

“Where are we going?” Jim asked, peering at the reddish desert behind the window.

“To Ambassador Spock,” the Vulcan replied quickly, adjusting the route.

While it wasn’t unexpected, Jim was still curious.

“How did you mange to talk him into this?”

“I said that your life depended on it,” followed an obvious reply.

Speaking with a robot would be easier. Jim turned to the window. Everything that was going on was wrong. There were too many events and even more hasty decisions. He should be concerned with the impending bond, but he felt only bitterness of broken illusions.  

“After the bond is established, will you be able to read my thoughts or something?” he asked, when a lonely speck of light came into view among low hills.

“No, it does not work this way,” Spock replied and for the first time doubt appeared in his voice. “At least, I shall endeavor to prevent such occurrences.” 

“You have no guarantees, right?” Jim pinched the bridge of his nose; a dull noise in his head was becoming louder and louder. “Why are you even sure it’ll work?”

A pause lasted less than a second.

“Because you taught me to believe in it.”

***

Spock shut off the engine and realized how quiet the desert was. Silence lay over the plain, rustles and sounds from their movements distinctly heard in the still air. Jim exhaled loudly and gave Spock a long look, as if he wanted to say something, but eventually thought better of it. Then the door opened, the seat creaked and sand crunched under Jim’s feet. There was some subtle change between them, something was broken and Spock could not tell what exactly. Despite that he wanted to help, Jim was displeased with him. Or rather Jim was displeased because he had to accept Spock’s help. Desperation became the key factor: if the captain could choose, he would have preferred McCoy’s help. It hurt so much to be unwanted.

“Are you coming or have you changed your mind already?” Jim asked impassively.

Knowing that it would be hard, deep down Spock had irrationally hoped that the captain would take the idea of bonding easier. 

Jim was standing with his back to Spock, examining a neat solitary house of the Ambassador. Spock came closer to the captain. Stars that began to appear in the evening sky seemed brighter in the clear air. Colors, emotions and actions felt more real and intense here – desert showed the true significance of things, and Spock understood why his older counterpart had settled in the wilderness, away from the ever busy city.  

“I have not changed my mind,” he told Jim. 

A wooden door with iron hinges was not locked, as it would be pointless to lock it with nobody but ghosts of the past around. 

The Ambassador met them at the threshold and Spock again had a strange feeling as if he met his living reflection: even the way they raised their hands and parted their fingers in ta’al was identical. Jim gave the Ambassador a slight nod. He was trying to maintain his usual buoyant demeanor in the Ambassador’s presence, however Jim’s posture was tense and he quickly put his hands behind his back to stop drumming his fingers nervously. Jim might be agitated at the prospect of bonding, but Spock worried that the reason was far more serious and the effect of the meld had already worn out. 

The Ambassador must have seen it too, because he ushered them into the living room without any questions. 

“You’ve got a cozy place,” Jim said nonchalantly, as if they came for a casual visit.

“It is quite satisfactory for me,” the older Spock replied simply. 

He was looking at the captain with grave intentness, which made the younger Spock doubt his own ability to keep his anxiety about Jim unnoticed by others. It was imperative to control his emotions better and choose words cautiously. Professionalism of their relationship was challenged by this personal aspect. Spock cherished what they had and would not lose it through his weaknesses. 

“Did Spock give you details regarding the rite we are going to perform?” the Ambassador asked, sitting down on a plain wooden chair in the center of the room. Two similar chairs were facing it, clearly intended for Jim and the younger Spock. The three chairs formed a triangle to make the contact easier during the establishing of a bond. 

“In general terms,” there was a tinge of offence in Jim’s voice, although he did not want to let it on. Spock pretended that he did not notice anything and ignored his counterpart’s questioning gaze. 

“In this case I am bound to explain something to you two,” Ambassador Spock frowned. “For Vulcans, a marital bond is the most intimate spiritual connection, which is not to be used as a regenerator to heal an ailment. I would have never agreed to help you, had I not presumed that you both understood it.” 

“I realize the degree of my responsibility to the captain,” the younger Spock nodded. 

“I’m used to responsibility as well,” Jim agreed with emphasis. He started to rub his temples and stopped abruptly, as if caught at the crime scene. Spock dashed to him, but seeing that Jim was relatively okay, went to the chair and took a seat instead. 

Jim sat also and the Ambassador cast a strange look at them, as though he observed something the two were yet unaware of.

“It is good that you share each other’s feelings,” he said thoughtfully. 

Jim fidgeted on his chair, deliberately ignoring the younger Spock, who only frowned slightly, but otherwise preserved Vulcan decorum. Spock had discussed the situation at length with his older counterpart and therefore had not expected him being ironical. The Ambassador’s old wrinkled face stayed neutral and there was a trace of another emotion in his deep brown eyes, an emotion that the younger Spock mistook for irony.

“I’m ready,” the captain said daringly and leaned forward a little. 

The Ambassador inclined his head, a faint smile touching the corners of his mouth. It was enough to soothe Jim’s temper. The younger Spock watched them, holding his breath. He knew of the captain’s inexplicable affection to the old man, but had not seen them interact before. They treated each other with warmth, respect and care. Spock had thought his relationship with Jim was coming to something alike, until he destroyed everything with his own actions.  

“I am ready too,” he said, looking over his counterpart’s head. 

“Let’s begin, shall we?” the old Vulcan replied. He put his hand on Jim’s psi points first and then reached out for his younger counterpart. A deep meld took them away from reality.

It had nothing in common with Spock’s childhood experience, when a mind link had been created between him and a girl named T’Pring. This contact did not resemble a meld for a purpose of healing or searching either – no, it was exceptional. While he did not know what Jim and the Ambassador perceived, for him the meld morphed into an image of a house, which contained two more dwellers. He could not see them and was judging only by surroundings that were changing under their influence. One of them was merely a guest, but the other was going to stay there together with Spock. Everything was becoming shared with the other, and almost no places were left unaffected by the presence of the different consciousness. 

Perhaps, this was what Spock had craved so ardently: feeling Jim all the time, every moment, being connected to him mentally. It was a great temptation to let him in, share thoughts with him. If only emotions mattered, Spock would walk this path to the very end to have Jim beside him. Nevertheless, it was not pon farr, so he retained his logic and self-control, which had been cultivated for years. Spock knew that Jim was already there, that they were bonded and he could not leave, but fear of losing their friendship overweighed the longing to become closer. Therefore, instead of making the last step, he closed a mental door and locked it. The two of them stayed in the house together, without a possibility to communicate or touch. 

Spock’s eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes. Jim also recovered his sense of reality. Pallor disappeared from his face, his posture was still tense, but he seemed healthy. 

“Was it successful?” he asked the Ambassador. “I feel almost the same as before.”

“And yet the bond exists in a way it could be created under these circumstances,” the old Vulcan stood up, his eyes locked on his younger counterpart. “Jim, would you mind if I said a few words to Spock alone?”

Even though Jim’s expression became gloomy, he headed to the door without argument.

“I’ll prepare the hovercar, then. I think I’ll be able to drive,” he gave the Ambassador a grateful smile and received a cordial nod in return. There was no smile for the younger Spock. 

“Why did you not tell him?” the Ambassador asked when the door closed and the sound of Jim’s steps faded out.    

“Please, specify,” Spock suddenly felt very tired and lonely.

“That the bond with Jim bears so much personal importance to you.”

Spock was reluctant to answer. After a moment of hesitation he replied, “Only the captain’s well-being is important. Everything else is of no consequence. Jim knows that as his First Officer I have a duty to do everything that lies within my power to help him. That should suffice for us both.”

“But it is not true,” his older counterpart objected calmly. 

“I have never deceived the captain,” Spock started to protest at first and went silent under the Ambassador’s piercing gaze. 

“Then you deceived yourself,” he said. “Spock, you are aware that a marital bond is to be based on mutual trust, that both spouses should be open to each other. The bond will not function properly if you continue to shield from Jim. Then everything that happened here will lose its meaning.”  

Spock had not thought about it. Marital bonds were a very subtle issue, rarely discussed, so it was difficult to make assumptions.

“Jim’s condition improved,” he said stubbornly.

“For how long?” the Ambassador would not yield either. “Jim knows nothing of Vulcan rituals and the real nature of bonding, which bears no relation to logic and order. Pon farr is the time of madness and no control. It is sex and no boundaries, since boundaries are impossible. This is what makes the bond so strong. You must tell him.”

“I cannot. First and foremost, for the captain’s own sake,” Spock rubbed his knees with his hands. The Ambassador’s ascetic living room felt like a prison. “It will end our friendship, as my help is already a burden for Jim. He made it absolutely clear.”

“You are so sure of that,” the old Vulcan said and smiled sadly.

Spock could not bring himself to look in the Ambassador’s eyes and ask him what he had seen in Jim’s mind, because his counterpart seemed to know all Spock’s secrets. 

“I thank you for your help,” Spock stood up and raised his hand in ta’al. “I am certain that now everything will resume its normal course.”

The Ambassador shook his head. He used to be so young and naive once.

***

A loud beeping of the alarm clock signaled the beginning of a new day. Jim grimaced and smacked the chronometer without opening his eyes. He missed – the source of annoying shrill sounds fell down from his nightstand, so he had to get up and grope for it under the bed. On the bright side, thanks to these manipulations Jim finally woke up.

Last night, tossing and turning in his uncomfortable bed and searching for vestiges of Spock’s consciousness in his mind, Jim came to a conclusion that they had never been so far from friendship, even with the bond that the older Spock had helped to establish. After the private talk, the Ambassador radiated serenity and said he was sure Jim would get better soon, while his First’s face was completely blank. Jim drove on their way back to the city and Spock expressed no objection to that; to be more precise, Spock didn’t utter a word. Jim played along and kept silent too. If Spock wanted to distance himself from him after fulfilling his duty, Jim decided to let him be. When they arrived to the hotel, the captain took his belongings and went to McCoy’s empty room. Spock just stared after him. If Bones had known that Jim spent the first peaceful night in his room, he would’ve laughed his ass off. 

Preparations took little time and, having resigned himself to working another day in extreme heat, Jim left the room.

Spock was already waiting for him in the hall, punctual as always. He looked impeccable: his face expressionless, his arms at his sides and no signs of a sleepless night. 

“Good morning, Captain,” his tone was detached and official. 

Spock stoically held Jim’s heavy gaze. Nothing had changed from the day before.

“Morning, Spock,” the captain plastered a smile on his face, repaying to his First in kind.

Jim took the driver’s seat again. Spock was sitting next to him, absorbed in his PADD all the way to the point of unloading. Surprisingly, with all the recent obstacles and problems, they still managed to meet the schedule for every item on the list. That day the unloading was to be finished. Jim was looking forward to going back to the Enterprise and plunging into daily routine of his ship. His acquaintance with New Vulcan turned out to be unsuccessful – he came here to gain more knowledge about one of the most ancient civilizations in Alpha Quadrant, but had too many imperfections by Vulcan standards. The sooner he got out of here, the better. 

Yes, he decided to hold that thought. Tomorrow he would be in his captain’s chair again, leading his lady to Betazed. It would be so much better than suppressing an urge to look at Spock, wishing that everything came back to normal between them.  

“Have you talked to Doctor McCoy today?” Spock asked when they started to land.

“If you mean the bond, I didn’t tell him anything,” Jim pursed his lips, trying not to look offended or upset. He knew why Spock was asking this question: bonding with him was something burdensome, maybe even shameful for the Vulcan, so he didn’t want anyone else to find out about it. Jim wasn’t going to cause any troubles for Spock. Someday his First would bond with a very logical Vulcan girl, and information that her spouse had shared his mind with a human would spoil their very rational happiness.  

“I won’t tell anybody,” Jim added when the hovercar smoothly landed. “I promise. Don’t worry about it. We could pretend that nothing happened if you like.”

“You are free to do anything you deem necessary, Captain,” Spock said tersely. 

Jim gave him a sidelong glance. Spock wasn’t going to argue, lecture him or insist on some suggestion. After the bond had been established, he retreated to his shell, and Jim was left alone with lots of questions. Well, the bond wasn’t bothering him. To tell the truth, it didn’t manifest itself at all, but knowing that it existed was enough. 

“Tell me, what would you like to do?” Jim switched off the controls and turned to face Spock, so that the Vulcan couldn’t hide his reaction. “You fulfilled your duty, you saved my life. Now I owe you one.”

Spock remained silent for a while, his brown eyes studying Jim’s face intently, searching for insincerity and failing to find any. His gaze lingered on Jim’s lips, then traveled higher. Rays of light, which were coming through the windscreen, intensified the color of a flush that crept up Spock’s cheekbones. He sharply turned away.

“My needs are of no significance. I wish to complete the task to the best of our ability and hope that your state will allow you to perform the captain’s duties.”

Jim exhaled heavily. It was a new personal record: he managed to piss Spock off with just one phrase.

“So it will be, Spock,” he said quickly and got out of the hovercar. 

Jim knew that he practically broke off the conversation, but it wasn’t the time or the place to escalate the conflict. Somehow, during these two days, their interaction became so screwed up. Spock was keeping him at arm’s length, bringing it home to Jim that even friendship had its limits. They had crossed those limits and it would inevitably drive them apart beyond repair. At present, there were other things to do: they had arrived to the point of unloading, so he’d better concentrate on the work at hand.

The captain greeted Vulcans, who already were there. After two days of work he knew everyone by name and had talked to each of them at least once and still it didn’t help to win their favor. Although Stane wasn’t downright hostile anymore, he hadn’t changed his opinion and was waiting for any opportunity to find fault with Jim and his crew. Of all Vulcans, only Tevik treated him without palpable prejudice, Jim even liked his delicate and aloof manner. Today, however, it came to an end.

“Captain, I thought you were on the ship,” Tevik spoke first to Jim and came closer, intending to obtain more information concerning the captain’s health. “Should you not stay under the surveillance of your doctor?”

“As you can see, I’m alright,” Jim replied with a strained smile. 

During his stay on New Vulcan, questions about his health were almost as frequent as they had been after his revival with the help of Khan’s blood. He had really died in the warp core chamber, but now he wasn’t going to.

“Thank you for your concern,” he added. “My problem was successfully solved.”

“Indeed?” Tevik’s eyebrow rose to his bangs in an evident surprise. “In this case, may I inquire as to what the method of your treatment was? It must have been a very progressive technology, without a doubt.” 

This conversation was taking a dangerous turn, Jim could feel his First’s burning gaze without looking back at Spock. He must keep their secret, he had promised.

“Actually, I don’t know the details myself,” Jim tried to give a vague reply, cursing inwardly that he hadn’t foreseen such questions earlier. “I’m tougher than I look, you see.”

The upswept eyebrow stayed raised. Jim’s evasive maneuvers had no effect.

“You were virtually dying,” Tevik made no attempts to hide his interest in the captain’s miraculous convalescence. Being a proper Vulcan, Tevik didn’t believe in miracles. “I had carried out diagnostics myself and exaggerating facts is against my principles.” 

“What is going on here?” somebody asked stiffly from behind Jim’s back. The ever sullen Stane left his work to join in the argument. Jim shifted from one foot to another, irritated. If everything continued like this, soon they would gather a makeshift Vulcan Council here. 

“Nothing that requires your immediate attention, Mr. Stane,” Spock interfered. He was probably getting fed up with the commotion too and in regards of outsiders they were still standing together. Jim looked at Spock with gratitude, but he was too preoccupied to notice. “This subject is outside the framework of the current tasks. Therefore, discussing it is irrational.”

Any Vulcan would accept a logical reasoning, so Stane nodded, agreeing with Spock, perhaps, for the first time in his life and yet unwilling to go, eager to hear the continuation.

“Captain, you do understand,” Tevik insisted, “that such healing is highly unusual. The unique medicine, which helped you, could be very useful on New Vulcan. Moreover, according to the Federation laws, all races are to exchange resources and newest developments with each other.”

Damn, now he and Spock were cornered. Jim bit his lip. It was as plain as day that he couldn’t tell them about the cure, which had been invented on Vulcan ages ago, having nothing to do with the Federation. Spock stood motionless, his hands clasped behind his back. While his Vulcan honor would not allow him to lie to Tevik, Jim wasn’t bound by these obligations and he could do it for Spock. 

“Mr. Tevik, humans have an alternate physiology. The ship’s Chief Medical Officer treated me,” Jim said, feeling disgusted with himself. “I wouldn’t like to belittle your medical expertise, but my state wasn’t as critical as you said. I’m sure Doctor McCoy will be glad to share with you a full report on the treatment. If he finds free time, that is.”

The expression on Stane’s face blatantly read ‘I told you so’. Jim had never seen a Vulcan so triumphant: at last Stane had a confirmation of his opinion about Jim, that the human was just a wily Starfleet representative. Unlike Stane, Tevik inclined his head as a sign that he accepted the captain’s inconsistent explanation, even though he did not believe it. 

With that the Vulcans left. Watching them go, Jim felt pangs of conscience. He should be happy that he managed to get out of the difficult conversation, but it didn’t ease his sense of guilt. Jim spent the rest of the day in a sulky mood, yearning for his ship. Unfortunately, their departure had to be postponed – Stane had informed them that upon completion of the unloading they were to close out some final procedures, which would take the whole next day. Jim didn’t say anything against it, otherwise his wish to go back to the Enterprise immediately would be considered as running away. Jim Kirk had never been a coward. Having assured the Vulcans that he was ready to provide any cooperation, Jim went back to the hovercar and got in. Spock silently took a place next to him and they drove to the hotel without saying a word.   

***

Spock had been standing in the hall for two minutes, thirty seconds, unable to summon his courage to knock on the closed door. They had returned to the hotel four hours ago, but the captain had not come out from Doctor McCoy’s room for dinner. Spock began to worry and could not tell what was troubling him more, Jim’s physical well-being or his emotional state. The bond, even an incomplete one, slowed down and perhaps reversed the development of the disease, simultaneously creating a new problem: neither Jim, nor Spock could come to terms with its existence and that was poisoning their relationship. While the captain felt uneasy and uncomfortable, Spock… It was hard and strange to see Jim’s negative reaction to his genuine wish to help. However, as long as the captain’s life was out of danger, everything else was of no importance.

Spock was holding a tray with a pitcher of iced tea and a couple of sandwiches. He hoped that Jim would not think that it was an intentional intrusion. Imposing himself on the captain was the last thing Spock wanted. 

With an effort, he finally knocked on the door and received no answer. Either Jim was not in the room, or his condition prevented him from responding. Fighting off anxiety, Spock used his communicator to locate the human. Against all logic, the captain was nearby, in their shared room. He must have gone there during dinner time, but what for? As it often happened, Spock’s logic was defeated again by Jim’s unpredictable mind.

In a minute, Spock was back in their room and found Jim on the terrace, which was already submerged in the twilight shades. 

“Captain?”

“I thought you were spending the night somewhere else,” Jim turned around and noticed the tray in Spock’s hands. “You don’t eat meat, do you?”

“I do not. It is for you – you did not come to dinner,” Spock put the tray on the table and clasped his hands behind his back. “Why did you decide to return?”

Jim shrugged.

“It’s too hot in McCoy’s room and I couldn’t remain inside four walls anymore, needed some fresh air.” 

Spock did not ask why Jim preferred to stay on the terrace. It was obvious that he was avoiding meeting Vulcans and, consequently, being asked awkward questions.

“You could combine your recreation and dinner here,” Spock said and nodded at the tray.

Jim shook his head and did not even look in that direction.

“Spock, I don’t want it,” he leaned back against the balustrade. “I don’t need it.”

“I could bring something to your liking,” Spock struggled to keep his voice level. He was about to go back to the room when Jim answered.

“I’m not talking about the food. I’m talking about your excessive courtesy. Stop it, it only complicates everything.”

“You are right, Captain,” Spock was uncertain whether he should leave Jim for a while. The captain sounded upset and his motions were constrained. It was necessary to make sure that Jim was not ill.

“Is it First Officer’s duty too?” Jim looked at Spock defiantly, daring him to deny it and tell the truth. Spock knew he should not do it, because his wishes were unimportant and he was concerned only with Jim’s needs and peace of mind.   

“I have already given you my rationale.”

“I remember. You must ensure that I’m able to perform my tasks. That’s why you forced yourself into a bond with somebody unsuitable as a spouse,” Jim snorted. “I’m no better, though. Today I lied out of duty. Don’t you think it was all wrong?”

“I am certain that I did everything right,” Spock replied sincerely. “Your life is my main priority. I cannot imagine what would happen to me if you died.”

Spock realized that he made a mistake. He spoke his mind and could not take those words back. Jim came nearer and looked into Spock’s eyes. In such proximity all excuses became impossible, logic was failing him.

“Not really appropriate explanation for a First Officer, right?” Jim’s breath hitched and he licked his parched lips. It nearly made Spock groan with despair. He must apologize and go away or assure Jim that his conclusions were incorrect. But Spock could do neither, standing speechless, enchanted by Jim’s blue eyes, which seemed almost black in the darkness.    

“Spock,” Jim whispered. “Please, say something, tell me what you mean. I’m not a Vulcan and I can’t feign indifference anymore. I just need to know if there is a teeny-tiny chance that you share my feelings.” 

Jim tentatively placed his hands on Spock’s shoulders. Spock could not believe it was real. Jim’s confession was too desirable to be true. Spock had convinced himself that Jim did not want his help and therefore would never want him. Jim was probably speaking under the influence of the disease.

“Jim, you do not understand what you are saying,” Spock’s tone was quiet, he could not make himself step back, relishing the warmth of Jim’s hands, feeling Jim’s breath on his face. Then Spock felt a soft kiss on his temple. “You are ill and you will regret your actions later.”

“No,” Jim murmured. “I’ve never felt better in my life and I won’t regret anything.”

Jim kissed him again, this time on the lips. Spock was going to break and could not do anything about it. He tried the last feeble argument.

“The bond must be inducing this attraction. Jim, I implore you to stop,” Spock said, but there was no strength in his voice.

“Does the bond have something to do with this?”

A negative reply would be a lie, whereas an evasive one would only deepen their miscommunication. Spock was tired of fighting with himself. 

“A bond is established during pon farr, the time when Vulcans lose control over their emotions. It is the time when we have an irresistible urge to find a mate, the one we must possess in every meaning. Perhaps, some kind of emotional transference took place during the establishment of the bond.”

Jim laughed soundlessly and pressed his forehead against Spock’s for a moment.

“You didn’t tell me the main point, huh? Believe me, it’s not the bond that makes me want to be with you. Of course, if you didn’t create a bond between us earlier than we think.”

Spock stared at Jim in confusion.

“Do you remember? Back then, behind the glass, I asked you whether you understood why I had come back for you.”

Spock nodded slightly. He remembered very well.

“I already knew what you were to me. Yes, I couldn’t lose my First Officer, couldn’t leave my friend in danger, but there was something besides objective reasons. And before dying I wanted you to know that too.” 

Jim sighed and continued. 

“I didn’t have to suppress my feelings to accept them, but I don’t know what you feel, what you want. I understand that I’m asking too much of you. You are a Starfleet Commander, First Officer of the Enterprise, and a Vulcan survivor with roles, responsibilities, whatever. Look, Spock, forget about duty and necessity. What would you want for yourself?”

There could be only one answer, those private thoughts, which he did not dare to speak of. Jim’s lips were touching Spock’s neck, Jim’s hands were stroking his back and Spock wanted those light caresses to become more determined and confident, because he had been forbidding himself to dream about them for too long.

It broke him. Spock answered with a clumsy, impatient kiss and held Jim close, feeling his body heat through the clothes. If he tried to express this with words, he would not be able to.

They could still stop, but Jim was coveting it just as Spock did, so there was no way back. As though the last piece of Kal-toh finally found its place, turning chaos of steel rods into a perfect sphere, this Vulcan puzzle solved. 

Jim took Spock’s hand and asked, “Come?”

“Yes,” Spock whispered, letting Jim lead him back into their room.

They undressed each other slowly, exposing more skin for exploring touches. Learning this side of their relationship was much like getting to know one another anew. Spock’s palms were trailing from Jim’s shoulders to his back and from his back to his hips, while they were exchanging hungry kisses. Their breaths mingled, Spock perceived Jim’s energy and strength through the contact, while there were also tenderness and care, a wish to give Spock as much pleasure as he could. And even if Jim was practically going mad in Spock’s arms, he didn’t want to rush things and was trying to show Spock how special it was for him. Spock had not imagined that sensations could be so bright and tantalizing – Jim’s scent, his ragged breath, the way he was holding Spock and kissing his swollen lips. It was like stepping into the light for the first time after living in the shadows the entire life. What was the worth of control now? Spock would rather give in to the ancient, passionate and burning instinct, which Vulcans restrained ever since they had chosen the path of logic. Jim didn’t ask more than Spock could give at the moment, letting him adjust, although Spock’s touches that were going lower and lower, to Jim’s abdomen and inner thighs, but avoiding his need, were becoming excruciating in their unintended teasing. Spock understood that Jim gave him full freedom of action, submitting himself with infinite trust. 

Before, Spock could only wonder what it was like, to be truly close with someone. Being parted and never parted from T’Pring gave none of that sense of belonging, which he had here and now with Jim. They lay down on the narrow hotel bed and savored full skin-to-skin contact. Spock was overwhelmed by the heady feeling of having Jim beneath, his legs tightly wrapped around Spock's hips, his fully erect cock leaking with precum.

“Spock,” Jim’s whisper was barely audible. He was asking and giving permission at the same time.

A few hours ago they could not look into each other’s eyes and now they were about to make love. Everything was happening so fast, but Spock knew he would never hurt Jim. Vulcan natural lubrication had a mild anesthetic effect and Spock carefully prepared his human. When he pushed in slowly, Jim gasped at the sensation of being filled and whole at last.

They lost track of time, sheets were rumpled under Jim’s back, Spock’s knees were pressing into the hard bed as he was thrusting into Jim again and again. Moans were escaping Jim’s lips and Spock reached for his hands to entwine their fingers. There was no shame in unleashing their emotions – they felt so right and complete together, it was liberation from doubts, misunderstandings and hurting. 

The door to the terrace was still open, a cool night breeze coming through from another reality of the outer world. Nothing existed for them except the hotel room and their desire to become one on all levels. Spock kissed Jim deeply once more and drew back, instantly finding psi points on Jim’s face.  

When the mind opened to him as easily as the body had, Spock became lost in depth and intensity of Jim’s feelings, immersed in a wave of his emotions. No other meld had been as sensual and vivid, almost singing, it crushed Spock’s elaborately constructed shields in a flash. 

A full-fledged bond replaced those shields: new, startling, even frightening and already as vital as the air. Better than a most devoted friendship, this union was stronger than relation by blood, a connection more intimate than sharing a bed. An oath or a pledge could not be compared with its power, for it was truer than any words spoken. Spock was grateful that he had this experience in a state of mind untainted by the fire of pon farr. From now on, Jim was a part of him and he was a part of Jim. Together, they became more than the sum of both.


	4. Chapter 4

Even with his eyes closed, Jim could sense that Spock was somewhere near. His instincts proved to be correct: Jim was lying on the narrow bed alone, while Spock was sitting on the floor cross-legged, apparently meditating. Last night, Spock did with their minds something unfathomable, something that Jim wouldn’t try to explain. He remembered those demanding touches and possessive kisses, Spock’s passion and reverence with which he treated him after they had been waiting for so long. But in the cold light of morning it all seemed dreamlike, he would’ve thought his inflamed mind had tricked him somehow, if it wasn’t for distinctive evidence: bruises and scratches on Spock’s sinewy back and the bond – Jim could feel it in every part of his consciousness and in each cell of his body. How had he managed to live without it for twenty-seven years? For the first time in his life he was whole, complete and real, as he always should be. He needed to get used to it, though.

“Hey,” Jim said shyly.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to interrupt Spock’s meditation. Honestly, Jim was at a loss what to do and how to behave. 

“Good morning, Jim,” Spock turned around and greeted his bondmate, hickeys of vivid green clearly seen on his neck and collarbones. When their eyes met, it was as if a sparkle ran through the electrical circuit between them. It wasn’t clear who felt it first, but a sense of deep awkwardness resonated through the bond from one to the other. 

“Is everything alright?” Jim asked warily, his cheeks and ears starting to burn with embarrassment. 

“I am sorry,” Spock quickly stood up. “You are receiving a kind of an emotional rebound. Gradually, you will learn to control it.”

Okay, so those were Spock’s emotions and Jim most likely paid him back in his own coin. Quashing the feeling of uneasiness Jim pushed up on his elbows and smiled at Spock, trying to distract him from needless self-reflection, but then again, Jim didn’t really know what to say and his smile faded away. He ended up asking a question that interested him most.

“Will it be always so intense? I mean, the way I feel our emotions?”

Spock frowned and the bond brought a gush of anxiety from him. 

“If the bond causes discomfort to you,” he began slowly, “I could probably lessen its influence with the help of mental shields…”

“No!” Jim sharply interrupted Spock mid-sentence. “Let it stay as it is. I was just curious.”

Although Spock nodded in agreement, uncertainty was reflected on his face and coursing through his senses. Jim repressed a sigh. Being transparent to each other had its perks and was the source of troubles at the same time. 

“Would you like to have breakfast?” Jim asked, hoping it would help to ease the tension somehow. “You brought sandwiches yesterday. How about having a picnic on the terrace?” 

He knew that the suggestion was stupid, but couldn’t come up with anything better and thought that maybe it would lighten the mood. Spock, however, seemed even more concerned. 

“I believe the food is already not suitable for consumption. Furthermore, having breakfast on the terrace…” Spock lowered his eyes, “…would not be advisable.” 

It obviously translated as ‘we can be seen together’. Apparently, Spock preferred to keep a low profile. Jim felt a pang of disappointment and brushed it away: it was reasonable, they didn’t need any additional attention. Meanwhile, Spock must have sensed his controversial reaction. 

“Have I offended you?” he asked. “If you wish, we could go to the dining hall. I would be amenable to that.”

There was no point in arguing, so Jim just got up from the bed. He expected to find his clothes scattered on the floor – yesterday he didn’t care much about it – and to his surprise he found his uniform carefully folded on the chair, beside which his boots were neatly placed. 

“Thank you,” Jim blushed again.

“You should not thank me, as I deemed it appropriate,” Spock replied. 

Jim smiled sheepishly, took his clothes and went to the bathroom. He liked when Spock took care of him, it felt so damn nice and domestic, but, on the other hand, Spock’s fears and worries were still present at the back of his mind. After finishing his morning routine, Jim stayed in the bathroom for a few minutes, trying to sort out his inner turmoil and distinguish his own emotions from Spock’s.

When Jim returned to the room, Spock, fully dressed and ready to go, gave him a scrutinizing once-over to make sure that everything was in accordance with regulations. Jim waited patiently for the self-appointed inspector to finish his annoying examination. As usual, the Vulcan’s gaze was neutral, even stern, but… geez, Spock was getting off on it! 

“Like what you see?” Jim wiggled his eyebrows and posed to show his gold tunic at its best. Spock’s emotions were like a drug – try once and you’re hooked, wanting more. 

“I do indeed,” corners of Spock’s mouth curled up slightly, and he finally looked away from Jim. 

Jim’s face grew serious as he came very close to Spock. Now there were almost no secrets between them, no possibility to hide anything from each other. Jim knew that it was unsettling for both. 

“What happened yesterday… I don’t regret it.”

Spock put his hands behind his back and was looking at Jim intently. Unable to hear Spock’s thoughts, Jim nonetheless sensed his doubts. Deep down inside Spock still felt insecure despite Jim’s encouraging. Suddenly it dawned on Jim that correct interpretation of the other’s emotions was a subtle science, which required lots of practice and good skills. Otherwise it could lead to another bout of misunderstanding or worse – estrangement.

“You know, it would be great to communicate not only through emotions, but also by using words,” Jim added.

“Jim, I…” judging by his determined tone, Spock was about to say something important. At that moment they heard insistent knocking on the door. 

“Oh crap, who showed up so early in the morning?” Jim grumbled.

It turned out to be their old acquaintance and frankly speaking Jim wasn’t happy at all to see him. Two more intimidating Vulcans stood behind Stane – their visit clearly promised nothing good. 

“Gentlemen, what brings you here?” Jim tried to speak politely, but his question sounded rude anyway.

“You and your First Officer are to report to the Council immediately,” Stane informed them dryly. “You are charged with a grave crime against the Federation.”

* * *

There were no further explanations; moreover, quite predictably they were not allowed to contact the ship. Having escorted them out of the hotel, the guards ushered Spock and Jim into the back seat of the hovercar. Stane started the engine and soon the hovercar was heading in the direction of the Council building. 

“What exactly are we charged with?” Jim tried again and received the same answer as before. 

“The details shall be disclosed in due course of time.”

Spock could feel through the bond Jim’s boiling indignation and rage. He made an attempt to assess the situation from a logical point of view. It was not easy: the recent days had been marked with anxiety and worry for Jim’s life and, concentrating on his main concern, Spock must have overlooked something. Perhaps these charges were caused by some misunderstanding or incorrect data. There was not anything to be done in the current circumstances and more facts were necessary to form any hypothesis.

“Who ordered to arrest us?” Spock asked, not hoping for a constructive dialogue. 

Stane, however, replied without a moment’s delay.

“The Council has voted for it unanimously.” 

“Most interesting,” Spock raised his eyebrow.

At least he succeeded in obtaining additional information. Either it was not classified or Stane went so far in gloating over their plight. The rest would be soon revealed. 

They were rapidly approaching the Council, the white rectangular building with a sloped roof, which was blindingly bright in the rays of the morning sun. The tall building was surrounded by scaffolds from each side, numerous workers moving around, busy with the continuing construction. There was no one at the entrance and the hovercar landed in the open area near the eastern wall of the Council. 

“Make haste!” Stane commanded, leading Kirk and Spock inside the building with the guards on their flanks.

“Don’t treat us like criminals, you didn’t prove anything yet,” Jim snapped.

But Stane’s confidence was genuine, and therefore it must have solid grounds. They were going along a winding, labyrinth-like corridor. Its dull, gray walls were to be yet decorated in austere Vulcan style as it befitted the main governing institution. An elevator swiftly brought them to the right floor and the small group faced The New Vulcan High Council. The Council was seated in a vast hall, very similar to the one, which once had been in the Vulcan Science Academy, with a vaulted ceiling and a high dais – every entering person felt small and insignificant, overpowered by its magnificence. 

“Greetings, Spock and James Kirk,” a clear and authoritative female voice rang through the hall. 

An elderly Vulcan woman was looking down at them from the center of the dais. Her black slanted eyes, shrewd and strong-willed, regarded the two as if they were specimens in a Petri dish. T’Pau, the matriarch of Spock’s clan and the only person ever to turn down a seat on the Federation Council, became the Head of the New Vulcan government after the Narada incident. Since the establishment of the colony she permanently resided on the planet and never left it. Other Elders, saved by Spock before their homeworld had perished, sat on both sides from her.

“T’Pau,” Kirk and Spock returned the greeting, Spock with his right hand raised in the Vulcan salute, while Kirk merely inclined his head. 

Apart from the Elders, other Vulcans were also present, including Tevik and Spock’s father. In this way, Spock and Jim were actually forced to stand trial.

“Captain Kirk,” T’Pau addressed Jim, and it seemed that her tone already sounded accusative. “Your ship is carrying the cargo of seventy-three cryotubes, which contain humans in suspended animation. The Starfleet Command instructed you to deliver this cargo to Betazed, where it shall be deposited for storage.”

Jim’s lips pressed into a thin line. A very limited number of people knew about the main task of the Enterprise. Betazed was chosen as a neutral territory for keeping Khan and his accomplices in custody. The planet had joined the United Federation of Planets only recently and thus it was not an interested party. Although the agreement with Betazed was reinforced by dozens of strictly confidential documents and the errand was highly classified, evidently, T’Pau was well-informed on current affairs of the Federation and Starfleet by her own sources of intelligence.

“I have no right to discuss such issues,” the captain said.

A murmur ran through the hall, but T’Pau made it stop with a motion of her hand.

“It was not a question, I am speaking of confirmed facts,” she replied, giving him a severe look. “Tell me, Kirk, why is it prohibited to use the blood of the criminal Khan Noonien Singh?”

Spock sensed through the bond that Jim was growing suspicious of the direction of the interrogation and bracing himself. It was the beginning, so Spock prepared for provocative questions too. 

“Nobody can be subjected to medical experiments without consent. Taking blood from people against their will, even if they are criminals, would be a breach of humane principles of the Federation.” 

The captain’s words sounded firmly, without a tinge of doubt, as if it was an indisputable truth. In reality, conditions were far more complicated. Jim’s revival with the help of Khan’s blood had created a precedent, which had caused multiple rounds of discussions and open confrontations. It had taken tremendous efforts from those, who did not support the usage of genetically modified blood, to prevent further experiments. A moratorium was the final measure to stop all speculations. 

“The Federation embargo indeed exists,” T’Pau’s intonation became more insistent. “That is why I charge you with its violation and shall demand an official cancellation of the moratorium. What is allowed to Starfleet officers should be also allowed to other members of the Federation.”

A wave of muffled whispers swept through the hall again. 

“Let me make a legitimate request,” Jim looked quite unabashed. “Please substantiate your statement about the alleged violation of the moratorium.”

T’Pau’s eyes narrowed minutely at the human’s impudent behavior, but she chose to comply and activated the PADD, which was placed in front of her.

“These are the results of your medical tests, made by one of our specialists two days before. I do not need to hold a medical degree, Kirk, to see that the state of your health was critical. Moreover, employees of the hotel, where you are staying, can confirm that you and your First Officer were absent yesterday until the middle of the night. How can you explain that?”

Jim clenched his fists and Spock perceived echoes of his fury, like peals of a distant thunder. The captain was fighting down his emotions with all his might, partially blocking the bond as a result. Spock stepped closer to him – shoulder to shoulder – just as Jim had done to support Spock when they had met Sarek three days ago. Jim noticed this gesture and so did T’Pau.

“I thought Vulcans respected privacy of each individual,” Jim said in a reserved tone. “What about medical confidentiality?” 

“It is observed only if the data does not affect the needs of the many,” T’Pau countered with ease. “Will you deny that you were terminally ill?”

“No,” Jim replied tersely. “But neither did I use Khan’s blood.”

“In this case, how could you recover in such a short period of time?”

Jim did not answer at once and that was enough to strengthen the Council’s suspicions against him and Starfleet. 

“I see that you are not eager to speak. Nevertheless, previously you were more conversational and claimed in the presence of two New Vulcan citizens that the Enterprise Chief Medical Officer had provided your treatment. Perhaps, we should hear his account of the events.” 

“No,” Jim’s voice was hollow, “Doctor McCoy has nothing to do with this. He didn’t treat me and is still working in the ship’s laboratory, searching for a cure.”

“It means that you lied. Hence, anything you say cannot be trusted,” T’Pau concluded. “We have facts, Captain Kirk: you were terminally ill and your ship carries the forbidden remedy. Now you are healthy, so it is logical to presume that you single-handedly used it in spite of the prohibition. There is no other explanation. Therefore, your guilt is unquestionable.”

Spock glanced at the captain. It was a stalemate. Jim should tell the truth and save his reputation in front of the Council. But he preferred to be condemned instead and keep their secret safe, protect it from prying eyes. The captain stood calm and determined, radiating confidence in his decision. Spock knew Jim was doing it for him; however, it was absolutely pointless. There was no need to put Spock’s interests before his own, because now their interests were the same. 

“I helped Captain Kirk to overcome the illness,” Spock said. “He did not use the blood of Khan Noonien Singh, nor did he ask for Doctor McCoy’s help. His illness was cured by means of establishment of a marital bond with my person two days before.”

Gazes, full of shock, astonishment and disbelief, suddenly were directed at Spock. Bonding with a human male, when extinction could befall the Vulcan race, was highly illogical and unthinkable. Everyone was trying to find a reason for such recklessness. Might it be that coercion, threats or pressure from the superior officer took place? How could one willingly share his mind with a human, an outworlder, under the present circumstances? 

“The bond was established upon mutual consent,” Spock continued, dismissing all assumptions in this regard. “A healer can perform a mind meld with us both to ascertain that it is real and stable.”

At these words disbelief in the eyes of Vulcans turned into contempt, while astonishment was replaced by disgust. But the bond brought so much warmth and love from Jim that for a moment the world around them ceased to exist. Spock’s heartbeat was regular, he had no more fears or doubts. There was nothing to hide or be ashamed of and he did not care about opinions of others. He cherished Jim, knowing that his bondmate would support him whatever happened. 

* * *

Vulcans were visibly shaken by Spock’s confession and it took several minutes to restore quiet in the Council hall. As for Jim, he could barely contain his all-consuming joy. Spock wasn’t showing any signs of regretting his announcement, so at least for now no misunderstandings clouded their relationship. 

The charges still weren’t dropped, but it didn’t seem a big problem anymore. Jim had just obtained a powerful source of inner strength and peace. He was sure that from this point everything was going to be alright. Well, it had to be.

“T’Pau, honorable Council,” the captain stepped forward. “I am sorry for all the confusion caused by results of my medical tests. Hopefully, this dispute can be settled.”

Maybe he was glowing with happiness too much, because the Elders only exchanged astounded looks without delivering any verdict. Not a sound disturbed the heavy silence except for rustling of stiff robes and occasional shuffling of feet. It could last indefinitely long, but the doors at the far end of the hall slammed open and somebody shouted, “Objection! I object! Or what do they say in such cases, dammit?!”

Jim turned around, not believing his ears. Bones was striding fast, almost running through the hall. With a tricoder dangling on his shoulder and a PADD clenched in his hand, the good doctor arrived like the cavalry before the final battle. 

“I demand the right to present my evidence!” he said in a loud voice, coming closer to Jim and Spock.

“You are not in a position to demand anything from the New Vulcan High Council, Doctor McCoy,” T’Pau replied dryly. “Nevertheless, we shall make a concession to you in order to learn the reasons of your outrageous conduct.”

“You are so kind,” McCoy scowled and shook the PADD over his head. “Here! These are the results of my research of James Kirk’s blood samples!”

“Bones? What are you up to? How did you get here?” Jim whispered through gritted teeth and tried to grab the doctor’s wrist, but McCoy easily dodged. 

“Time to stop this monkey business. Doesn’t matter how I got here!” he whispered back scathingly and continued louder, so that everybody in the hall could hear him, “I can prove that Captain Kirk became ill because of an attempted murder. The captain suffered the synaptic crisis due to intentional poisoning by a New Vulcan citizen.”

Jim froze and the Council hall fell into a stupor for the second time that day. But logic had always come to the aid of Vulcans in the most difficult situations. T’Pau was the first to recover.

“It is a serious accusation,” she said, her tone boding imminent punishment for deceit. At that moment it was clearer than ever why she was the matriarch for so many years. Any deliberate lie would be the end not only of McCoy, but of Kirk and Spock as well. 

“And still, I’m speaking the truth,” McCoy didn’t waver under her sharp gaze. “In fact, this poisoner of yours is a real genius. The crafty fellow synthesized a remarkable tactile toxin: it disintegrates in blood, leaving no traces and, mind you, it’s especially designed for humans, being relatively harmless for Vulcans. He practically made me believe that Jim’s own organism was killing him. However, a molecular scanner, which our Chief Engineer improved a little, had a different opinion.” 

T’Pau heard out McCoy’s expressive speech impassively without so much as moving a muscle of her face. 

“I cannot accept as true an assertion made but not proved,” she said. “Tevik, who is present here, has the necessary expertise. Please submit your data to him. He shall help us to determine whether or not your words are truthful.”

Tevik came up and extended his hand for the PADD, but McCoy pointedly gave it to Spock, then activated his tricoder and scanned Tevik’s hand. 

“I wouldn’t trust your specialist with a catheter filter, not to mention the medical data. Whatever were his motives, it was he who poisoned Jim. If I were you I’d lock him up right away.”

“Doctor McCoy,” Tevik clenched his hand into fist, “your behavior is showing signs of nervous agitation. You are clearly acting under the influence of extreme emotional disturbance…”

“Am I?” McCoy spat. “Even after four days there is an infinitesimal amount of alkyl phosphates and cyanides your epithelium. Surely, you did cover up tracks, but I know where to look and had my tricoder adjusted.”

“You must have forgotten,” Tevik replied coldly, “that I work in a laboratory of the only science center on New Vulcan. Within the frames of various researches I am dealing with toxic substances on daily basis. Consequently, their presence in my skin tissues cannot serve as evidence.”

“Using a tactile poison presupposes physical contact between the victim and the culprit,” T’Pau said. “I assume that cooperation between Captain Kirk and Tevik was scarce and did not include any kind of tactile contact.”

That triggered a memory in Jim. It was a small detail, which he neglected on their first day on New Vulcan.

“I remember,” he frowned, “when we first met, Tevik shook my hand. I thought it was a friendly gesture, though.”

T’Pau raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

“Captain is saying the truth,” Spock joined in. “The molecular analysis confirms the presence of residual alkyl phosphates in his blood. You can compare the readings of the doctor’s tricoder with this medical data.”

Spock handed over the PADD to T’Pau’s assistant and McCoy gave her his tricoder. T’Pau didn’t spare a glance at the devices, which were placed in front of her momentarily, staring at Tevik instead. 

“Tevik, explain yourself.”

The whole Council was expecting his answer, as was Jim. No one would dare to lie to the matriarch, after all. 

“If you would kindly specify what exactly I should explain, T’Pau,” Tevik said, unfazed. 

“Tevik, I am asking whether you intentionally endeavored to harm this human,” T’Pau clarified patiently. 

“Everything I did was for the sake of New Vulcan,” Tevik tried to give an elusive reply, but T’Pau would have none of it.

“You are not denying anything. It means that the human indeed is saying the truth and you committed a crime, besmearing the reputation of New Vulcan. Your offence is unforgivable.”

T’Pau raised her hand and two guards came to lead Tevik away. That was it. He would disappear from the hall, face the trial later, receive a sentence and Jim would never know what prompted him to do it.

“Wait,” Jim said, aware that he was breaking the rules of Vulcan propriety again. The Council would certainly not approve of such liberties, but he had to find out. “It’s ridiculous. Why did you want to kill me? You would gain nothing from my death.”

Tevik’s expression was placid and closed off. The brilliant scientist, who gave away his good name and career for his beliefs, didn’t have any qualms or fears. There was no shadow of remorse on his face. If he regretted anything, it was the failure of his plans.

“Are you sure?” his tone was almost mocking. “Your human mind is obviously unable to make the correct conclusions and deduce my motives.” 

“Please enlighten me, then.”

Tevik shook his head and for a moment there was a glimpse of the same sympathetic benevolence as before, which now gave Jim the creeps. Tevik wasn’t a madman or a maniac, he was a rational Vulcan with some sort of perverted reasoning. 

“It is all very simple and logical, Captain. I needed the blood of Khan Noonien Singh and his crew, and you were the obstacle. If the poison had killed you, Mr. Spock would have become the captain. It would be easier to convince him that New Vulcan needed this vital resource. Your survival would be beneficial too, because you would need Khan’s blood for it. I would expose you and file a petition to the Starfleet Command to obtain the required substance in a legal way. Two variants would lead to the same result. Admit it, Captain, your life is a negligible price for a rebirth of the entire race.”

“Eugenics would hardly contribute to regeneration of the Vulcan race as it proved detrimental on Earth,” Spock intervened. “The genome of a Federation criminal is a poor choice of an example.”

“What can you know of racial purity? Vulcan and its children have changed forever. The likes of you will drive it to its downfall and our civilization shall crumble under the ruthless force of time. I realized that you were devoted to your Terran captain, which made me presume that it would be the main argument for you to use the forbidden remedy, but I could not expect that your emotional attachment to him would result in such an atrocious deed. I did not consider all possibilities and that was my mistake. You shall live the rest of your life, Spock, with the thought that it was you who hindered the revival of the Vulcan race.” 

“Kroykah,” T’Pau rose gracefully from her chair and waived her withered hand to the guards. “Take him away.”

Jim was ready to share with Spock any bitter feeling – pain, anger or irritation – that’s why compassion and sadness came as a surprise from the other side of the bond. The idea of superiority, which tempted many in the Starfleet Command, somehow infected logical minds of Vulcans. They became so absorbed in their problems, blaming the Federation in all their misfortunes that they didn’t notice the breach in their own system. If someone still agreed with Tevik’s opinion, the consequences could be terrible. 

“What will you do with him?” Jim asked when the doors closed behind Tevik and the guards.

“We shall accept the proofs that you are not guilty, Captain,” T’Pau said. “Involvement of the Federation in this issue is unnecessary. I assure you, Tevik shall be punished accordingly.”

It was a full and complete reply. For Vulcans, Tevik’s actions were unacceptable: the conflict could strain diplomatic relations between New Vulcan and the Federation – T’Pau wouldn’t allow that. Perhaps, she was already forming a plan to avoid it and to solve the situation with minimal losses.

The Council members stood up, went down the dais and left through the inner doors at the other end of the hall, while other Vulcans exited through the main doors. There was no apology to the Starfleet officers. Stane didn’t look at them when he passed by, and Jim wished that the snotty douche felt ashamed. 

Finally, only Jim, Spock, McCoy and Sarek stayed behind. 

“Captain Kirk, Spock, I need to speak with you two in private,” Sarek said sternly. McCoy was intrigued, but Sarek’s ominous look implied that no arguments would be tolerated. 

“You’ll tell me later,” he muttered to Jim and walked briskly to the doors. Sarek led Jim and Spock further, into the inward part of the Council building. Jim’s head was reeling with all the events, revelations and apprehension at the prospect of talking to his new father-in-law.

Furnishing of Sarek’s office was sparse and efficient like in every establishment on the planet. Shutters on the windows were closed, the room filled with artificial light. Jim felt uneasy and guessed that it was partly Spock’s discomfort seeping in. Spock was tense and composed – well, at least he wasn’t trying to suppress his emotions and Jim could sense them.

“I shall not exercise judgment in regards of what you have done or said today,” Sarek stopped behind his desk, which became a barrier that separated him from his son and the captain. “It is of no consequence. However, you should rectify your mistake as soon as possible.”

“Mistake, Father?” Spock stiffened and clasped his hands behind his back, his posture ramrod straight. Jim was silently watching the exchange – the scene reminded him of a parent chastising a disobedient child for bringing home a stray dog.

“I understand that your decisions were influenced by principles of professional ethics and by your friendly affection to Captain Kirk,” Sarek’s tone softened somewhat. “This plan has met your expectations, but now there are no more objective reasons to maintain the bond.”

Jim’s heart skipped a beat. Sarek was right and Spock should agree with him. Jim’s life was out of danger, besides, McCoy had probably found an antidote, so the bond wasn’t a vital necessity anymore. Only it was. Jim couldn’t imagine living without it and the feelings Spock and he had for each other went far beyond the definition of friendly affection. 

“Do we really need to do this?” he blurted out.

“Captain Kirk,” Sarek’s face was studiously blank, “you and my son informed the Council that the bond was established the day before yesterday. Since Spock did not experience a certain physical state, in which bonds are usually created, I inferred that a third party lent you assistance. The most important point is that even artificially established bonds become strong with the lapse of time and dissolving one even after a few days shall be difficult.”

“It is already not applicable to our bond,” Spock objected. “Of course, due to fast progress of the disease we had to take extreme measures and create an artificial bond, but later it was consummated.” 

Sarek staggered back and sank in his chair. 

“You did even that to save the captain,” he said slowly and shifted his gaze to Kirk. Although the High Council freed Jim from all charges, for Sarek he was a real criminal. Sarek closed his eyes, trying to regain his self-control. Several moments passed before he opened them again. “While it certainly complicates the situation, the Elders must be able to dissolve the consummated bond as well, despite the pains of separation. Let this serve as a lesson to you both that one has to pay for unreasonable actions.” 

Jim found it hard to breath, his own panic mingling with Spock’s fear that flooded him through the bond. They needed more time.

“Father, will you permit us to talk alone?” Spock asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

Sarek nodded, apparently not anticipating more surprises than he already had and went out. The door closed behind him without a sound.

“Jim,” Spock said quietly, “I shall accept any decision from you.”

“Any?” Jim realized that in the jumble of their mixed emotions Spock couldn’t read him. 

“Jim,” Spock came closer and looked Jim in the eyes. “You must understand. Now you have a choice, whereas in the previous situation you had none. Vulcans mate for life and if you have doubts, it would be better to terminate our bond. I do not wish to make you a hostage of the other’s desire.”

Spock averted his gaze and Jim suddenly got an insight into the reasons of Spock’s fears.

“You mean, your desire? Are you afraid that it’s just a fling for me?” Jim’s hands carefully traced down Spock’s arms. “We’ve been through a lot together, defeated Nero, put Khan back into the cryostasis, here we’ve been prosecuted by Vulcan law and my mind’s open to you. Can’t you see that I’m serious about it?”

“I still cannot clearly understand the reasons of your actions,” Spock sighed. “Human mind is rather peculiar.”

Jim smiled – coping with emotional chaos proved to be a problem not only for a psi null human, but for a telepath too. 

“Okay,” he squeezed Spock’s fingers gently. “I’m not good at feelings stuff and promise to get better. Meanwhile, let me show you the way I can.”

Jim stroked Spock’s long fingers and felt a jolt of pleasure coming from him. Disparate threads weaved into the familiar fabric as Jim touched Spock’s closed lips with his and seconds later Spock opened to Jim’s caresses. They could spend the whole day like this, but Sarek was waiting behind the doors. Jim reluctantly broke the kiss. He didn’t let go of Spock and asked, still holding him tight, “Well?”

“Your method is efficient,” Spock agreed and Jim instantly perceived a confirmation through the mental contact.

“Now that you know my decision, I’d like to know yours. Do you want to keep the bond?” Jim asked, his heart racing. 

Their eyes locked again. The future depended on Spock, and for a second Jim was afraid that Spock would say no, but Spock leaned forward and kissed him fervently. Jim smiled happily into the kiss – if he had to choose only one wish in his life to come true, he wouldn’t ask for anything else. 

“Spock,” Jim began, but his bondmate silenced him with another kiss, and the bond brought a warm breeze of admiration and a reply to Jim’s thoughts. _As I you._  


* * *

“I can’t believe it!”

Back in the shuttle, with safety belts securely fastened, Doctor McCoy had been scolding them for approximately ten minutes. Spock and Jim were patiently waiting, letting the doctor say everything he thought of them and their inappropriate behavior. Spock even learned several new colorful metaphors.

“For the love of god,” McCoy continued his tirade, “While I was working like crazy, around the clock in the damned lab without sleeping or eating, you two… here… MARRIED! And nearly caused a coup along the way! All during a couple of days when I wasn’t here looking out for ya! What’s gonna happen when I take a vacation? A conquest of Alpha Quadrant? A wild party with Klingons?”

Jim smirked in the pilot seat, pushing through the bond an explicit image of what he would rather do instead of partying with Kingons. Spock stirred in his chair, sharing his bondmate’s anticipation. Seeing this, the doctor became livid.

“Don’t you dare use your telepathic mumbo-jumbo against me! And don’t roll your eyes! And don’t exchange those leave-us-alone-you-grouchy-doctor looks!” 

“Doctor, you have an overactive imagination,” Spock said, unperturbed. 

“Or rather a vast life experience. Fine, as soon as we dump those wretched cryotubes on Betazed, you lovebirds won’t be allowed anywhere around the bridge for three days. Doctor’s orders.”

Spock raised his eyebrow, while Jim stared at McCoy.

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“For the crew’s emotional well-being,” McCoy scoffed. “They don’t need to watch you canoodling all the time. I’ve had an eyeful already, thank you very much.”

Spock turned to the window to hide a bright green blush that spread over his cheeks. They got carried away in the hotel room when they were supposed to be packing their belongings before returning to the Enterprise. It did not go too far, but was enough to enrage the doctor. However, his reaction was benign in comparison with Sarek’s. Upon being informed that they were going to keep the bond, Spock’s father was not emotional – he only said that there was nothing more to talk about. Spock hoped that eventually his father would accept his decision, as it had happed once before. 

“Bones, stop teasing us with days off,” Jim laughed, “‘cause the shuttle’s engines are already working at full capacity and this baby won’t go any faster. When we deliver the cryotubes I’ll remind you about your promise myself.”

McCoy retorted in his usual manner, but Spock was not paying attention to their banter anymore. The night was claiming the continent their shuttle had left and darkness was gradually swallowing the last rays of light. Spock was watching the reddish planet become smaller and smaller as they were ascending. New Vulcan would never replace his homeworld, however it gave him something he hadn’t dared to dream of, so Spock was grateful. 

“Hey,” Jim smiled at Spock softly and touched his hand. 

McCoy made a mock-gagging sound and grumbled, “Don’t start it all over again, okay? I’m still here!”

“Are you okay?” Jim asked, ignoring Bones.

Spock cast the last glance at the planet, thinking of Vulcans and their hardships. One year was too short a period to recover, it would take much longer to return to a semblance of normal life. Nevertheless, Spock believed that his people would definitely find their path as he had. The sun disappeared behind the horizon only to repeat the cycle and rise the next day. Looking in his mate’s eyes, Spock said, “Yes, Jim. I am all right.”

“Did I say three days? No, five days! Or better a week, do you understand? I swear I’ll declare you unfit for duty and shut you two in the same quarters! Mark my words!” McCoy was ranting, but they didn’t hear him, sharing each other’s happiness through the bond that had made them one.


End file.
